


Best Cup in Town

by HedgehogSquadGoals



Category: South Park
Genre: Craig Is An Asshole, Eventual Smut, I Actually Wrote This Before the Craig/Tweek Shipping Episode, I'm An Oldschool Creek Fan I Guess, It's South Park What Did You Expect, M/M, Tweek Is Neurotic, creek - Freeform, lots of language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgehogSquadGoals/pseuds/HedgehogSquadGoals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweek has grown older and more neurotic than ever, much to his co-worker Craig's chagrin. But being a gay guy in South Park means slim pickings, and Craig will take what he can get. Crossposting from my (very very) old fanfiction.net account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2011. 2011, guys. Decided to upload it on AO3 for any Creek fans that may be milling about.  
> (For you guys who saw I posted and it wasn't an update for Mandatory Service, I am SO sorry. New chapter for that will be up tomorrow, promise!)

 "You got a job," Token gave Craig blank stare from across the lunch table, "an actual _job_ , at Harbucks?"

"Yeah, so what?" he asked, simultaneously sipping on his milk carton and flipping Token off.

" _So_ ," Token set down his book and nodded toward Craig's uplifted middle finger, " _that_. Dude, you're gonna flip off every customer who comes into the store!"

Craig set down the carton and studied his still-uplifted finger as if it were some foreign entity that had decided to make its place on his hand.

"Oh," he said and withdrew the finger.

"Does Mr. Tweak know that you're an asshole, Craig?" Clyde asked over his pizza. Craig flipped him off too.

"He hired me, didn't he?"

"He was probably just desperate for a replacement since Kenny got laid off the other day. His hands got burnt pretty bad, so he's kinda useless," Clyde remarked as Kenny shuffled past, his hands mittened by thick white bandages. Stan, Kyle and Cartman weren't far behind, with Kyle struggling to hold an extra lunch tray for his wounded friend.

"Hey Kenny!" Clyde called out, beckoning him over. Kenny turned to look at them, his raised eyebrows disappearing under the hood of his parka.

"Does Mr. Tweak know that Craig's an asshole?" Token asked, "because me and Clyde think he doesn't."

"Um, well you gahs," Cartman stated matter-of-factly, "Craig is indeed an asshole, and you'd have to be a blind baby monkey riddled with SARS not to see it."

Craig flipped him off.

"Whnnyuuwannano?" Kenny asked behind the heavy fluff of his jacket, voice muffled, as always, to the point of being nearly indiscernible. 

"'Cuz apparently Mr. Tweak gave him your old job," Clyde answered. Kenny shot a quick glare at Craig.

"Fckyu, Crg!" he grumbled before stomping away angrily. Craig raised his middle finger to Kenny's departing back.

"Son of a bitch! Kenny, take your damn tray!" Kyle ran after him, the two lunches balanced precariously in his hands. Stan slid into the seat beside Token, an eyebrow raised.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Craig will be preparing us delicious Harbucks coffee every day. Free of charge, of course..." Cartman plopped down beside him, a hungry glint in his eyes. He'd dropped a few (and only a few) pounds since childhood, but unfortunately, his psychopathic tendencies had yet to lessen. No one got better in South Park. Craig flipped him off while scooping up a slice of pizza with his free hand.

"No, fatass," Stan snipped, "it means that Craig will be working with Tweek."

All five of them cast a look toward the entrance of the cafeteria, where the trembling blonde boy sat alone at a small, round table, clutching a thermos tightly to his chest.

No one got better in South Park. And Tweek Tweak was certainly no exception.

As the years had passed and the children had grown, they had at some point begun to realize that Tweek was, to put it nicely, kind of fucked up. They hadn't exactly been all wide-eyed with innocence when they were little, but they had accepted Tweek's erratic behavior and constant twitching as something normal, perhaps even something warranted. South Park, after all, wasn't the safest of havens.

But now they were in their last year of high school and they had grown to find out some of the sad truths of life. That people like Tweek were those best to be avoided, because it was people like Tweek who'd end up on the side of the road, begging for change and living in a box. People like Tweek who would have to live on the fringes of society, people like Tweek who simply could not join the others as they grew and headed for their own great destinies.

Even Timmy and Jimmy, with all their handicapabilities, were on a better path to normalcy than Tweek. The twitchy blonde boy made those two seem practically vanilla. Tweek had tried to sit with them at lunch before, but his constant outbursts made Timmy uncomfortable, and he offended Jimmy by responding to his jokes with nervous twitches instead of laughter. Practically the entire school body had been avoiding Tweek for years now, ever since they realized he could never be like the rest of them. He could never function as one of their group, much less in normal society.

"Good luck, dude," Stan muttered, poking suspiciously at his green Jello, "You're going to end up getting doused with scalding coffee like Kenny was."

"Craig, for a price I can make sure Tweek is...incapacitated," Cartman offered sweetly.

Craig flipped him off.

* * *

"Thanks for coming by, Craig," Mr. Tweak remarked in his usual soft voice as Craig sauntered behind the service counter, "I'm glad you were able to start working on such short notice. It's a shame what happened to young Kenny, but I need a capable set of hands around here...losing him really had my balls in a garlic press."

Craig shrugged silently as the last customer left the store.

"All right, for tonight I just want you to go ahead and get acquainted with the layout of the store and where all the supplies are located. You'll start the evening shift tomorrow, but it's good to go ahead and get to know the place a little. You remember my son Tweek? He's back there, in the storeroom, he'll show you everything,"

Craig flipped Mr. Tweak off, but the man seemed to think nothing of it as he pointed toward a small green doorway toward the back of the service area. Craig made toward it and opened the door. He was greeted by the sight of Tweek, hunched over on the floor, unsuccessfully trying to cut open a box with his shaking hands. As soon as he heard Craig enter, his head whipped around and he stared at the black-haired boy as if in horror, the box-cutter clattering to the floor.

"Arggh!" Tweek screamed, twitching and shuddering from his crouched position.

"What are you doing," Craig asked in uninterested monotone.

"GAH! I was just -nng- getting the stock ready for tomorrow. OH SWEET JESUS!"

Tweek struggled to pull himself up, trembling the entire time. He snapped his head to and fro and muttered softly to himself. Craig just watched with something as akin to fascination as he was capable of.

It seemed like Tweek had gotten even worse than when they had last hung out together...which was, admittedly, years ago. Craig found the memory of their friendship difficult to remember, grains of sand long washed away by the tides of time.

The blonde had grown tall and thin, losing every ounce of childhood pudge. Craig could see the boy's wrist bones sticking out like knobs, screws to keep the ever-twitching hands fastened to his arms. His hair was shaggy and as wild as ever; it looked like he cut it himself and had never picked up a hairbrush in his life. His protruding cheekbones framed wild eyes, so badly stained by sleep-deprivation that the bags under them were a deep purple.

"Been a while," Craig said, "I haven't had a class with you since like...forever ago. I heard you got transferred to special ed."

"Nng! OH GOD! Y-yeah, kind of," Tweek fidgeted and looked down, embarrassed, "I-I just kept freaking out too much in class, man! You remember. So they moved me somewhere they said would -nng- easier to handle!"

"But here you are, holding down a job. Good thing your dad owns the place, I guess."

Tweek just twitched, unsure if that was an insult or a compliment.

"So, your dad said you'd get me familiar with the place before my first shift tomorrow? Like where the cups and shit go."

"Y-yeah," Tweek tried to smooth down the crinkled folds of his Harbucks apron. "Well...um...this is the storeroom...and...and...this is where all the extra -nng- supplies go," he gestured toward the box that he had been unable to open. Craig simply raised his eyebrows. 

Tweek gave a quick little movement and bustled past Craig, peeking his head outside the storeroom to make sure no more customers were inside. Then he fidgeted his way out of the storeroom and behind the service counter. Craig followed unhappily. He felt like an idiot, being trained by essentially what amounted to a clinically insane person. Tweek gestured to the various machines.

"There are the -argh!- blenders, and the ice machine, and the -nggh- freezer...a-and this is where we store the coffee beans OH SWEET JESUS NO!" he shrieked as he noticed the lid on one of the coffee bean containers was slightly ajar, "OH GOD WHY? Now ants and beetles and -argh!- grasshoppers are gonna get into the beans! Then my dad will sell me into -ngh- slavery! OH GOD! I can't handle slavery! _PRESSURE!_ "

Craig stared as the blonde frantically tugged at his hair. In one smooth movement, Craig reached over and adjusted the lid so it fit properly onto the container. Tweek relaxed slightly, fingers loosening around his blonde locks.

"Agh! That was close, man!"

"...yeah. So, are you gonna teach me how to answer phones and take orders and all that shit?"

"Answering phones? Taking orders? OH GOD NO! I c-can't do any of that! TOO MUCH PRESSURE! Bebe will probably teach you -ngh- all that tomorrow. I j-just do stock and clean up."

"I wonder why. Where'd your dad go?"

"He -nngh- probably left for home. I-I usually lock up."

"Mmh. Okay. Well. See you tomorrow," Craig flipped Tweek off and began heading toward the door. Tweek hurried after him, nervously grasping at the fabric of his apron.

"D-don't you want to know where everything else is?"

"I'll figure it out eventually. See you tomorrow night,"

His hand was wrapped tightly around the door handle when Tweek exclaimed.

"WAIT! OH JESUS! Don't go! I um...if you w-wait for me to lock up, I-I can drive you home, if you want. I-I have a car..." he trailed off, glancing out the large plate glass windows to the parking lot, where a maroon sedan sat. Craig turned to look at him blankly, fingers still wrapped around the handle.

"What."

"AHH! It's just...I-I thought we could catch up on stuff, s-since we're -nggh- working together now and its been -oh god- forever since we've hung out! And...and um...well, I know you walked here and your house is kinda far away and it's late..."

He looked up at Craig. Craig looked back at this pathetic, trembling mess of a human being, his expression unchanging.

"I didn't know they gave licenses to the mentally challenged."

And with that, he opened the door and stepped into the dark mountain night, leaving Tweek alone and staring within a brightly-lit box of glass.

* * *

Life was a blur for Tweek. Shapes all meshed together, colors running wild, loud noises and staring faces. It was as if the entire universe was afflicted with hyperactivity, and he was the only 'normal' one.

Of course, in that case, he'd _still_ be the odd man out.

But with even with life rushing by like a speeding locomotive, a few things remained slow, steady...normal. His parents were a constant. They were calm and spoke softly and hadn't sold him into slavery...yet. He understood, vaguely, that they weren't necessarily good for his anxiety levels, but at least they were soft and kind. Though his father's metaphors tended to scare him a little, because what if his dad started talking in metaphors all the time and Tweek couldn't understand him and they could never talk to each other again and OH GOD THE PRESSURE!

Another constant was Craig Tucker, the very person who had been ignoring him ever since the end of middle school. He had, ever since Tweek had known him, spoken in a slow, even tone. He took his time. He let everyone else's energy pass him by before he acted. He stood out in Tweek's vision, crisp and clear among the pummeling torrent of insanity.

Tweek had it bad for Craig. The boy had only grown more alluring with age, with his pale, pointed features and stone-dark eyes, his black hair soft-looking and shaggy beneath the fabric of his chullo. Tweek watched him, sometimes, in the hallways and the cafeteria as Craig would hang out with those who he had, at one point, called friends. It seemed like all of them had grown into themselves, become desirable, worthwhile human beings. Token was handsome and much more suave than a kid from South Park had any right to be, Clyde was still a little pudgy but made up for it with good looks and charisma. And there he was, Tweek Tweak, scrawny and haggard, unable to button his shirt or tie his shoes correctly even at the age of 17.

Tweek would never admit to anyone beside himself how much he wanted Craig. He knew he was a wreck. A failure to his parents, society, and humankind in general. He had insomnia, ADD, learning disabilities, addictions, hallucinations, anxiety...and, on top of everything else, he was gay.

It was way too much pressure.

He locked the store up with a twist of his key and headed toward his car, breath puffing in the cold air.

It was a mistake to ask Craig if he wanted a ride, he knew that. Admittedly, Tweek wasn't the best driver...he frequently had panic attacks while on the road, and usually drove at least twenty miles under the speed limit. But it'd been so long since he'd been able to talk to any of his old friends. He was lonely, and longed for companionship...especially if his companion was Craig.

* * *

 "It's only been a week, dude," Clyde glanced up at Craig from his place on the floor, an Xbox controller in his hand.

"Seriously, Craig," Token remarked, keeping his eyes on the game, "you can't be thinking about quitting already. Is it really that shitty a job?"

"It's not bad," Craig admitted slowly, watching his two friends duke it out on the screen, "the pay's pretty good and the benefits are...well, you know. Beneficial. It's just, I don't think I can take Tweek the freak anymore."

"Did he spill coffee on you?"

"No Clyde, he didn't spill coffee on me. God forbid he lose a precious drop," Craig rolled his eyes, "but he's always twitching and talking to himself, and making those weird noises. And he's been following me around or lingering behind me. It's driving me nuts."

"Maybe he wants to be friends again," Token shrugged, "he was kinda in our circle when we were kids, y'know?"

"Or maybe he's got a boner for you," Clyde sniggered.

"That's gross, Clyde. You're gross."

"I'm just sayin'. Stan had one for you, for a while there. When he first figured out he was queer?"

"You mean when he _finally_ figured out he was queer," Token corrected, "and, if I remember right, you didn't seem to mind, Craig."

"Yeah, but this is kinda different. Stan is...you know. Not crazy. Well, he's kinda crazy. Him, Kyle, that whole group is. God, the whole Peru ordeal...anyway, Tweek having a boner for me would be way too creepy. He's a special needs kid."

"He's not retarded, just kinda weird. OH _DAY-UM_ , YOU JUST GOT OWNED, SON!" Token let out a victory whoop as Clyde threw down the controller in disgust. He then quickly composed himself and turned to look at Craig, "Anyway, don't you want to buy a car? You kinda need money for a car. And you kinda need a job to get money."

"Why don't you just buy me a car, you rich bastard?"

"I want a car too," Clyde piped up. Token told them both to go to hell.

* * *

 "Are nights always this boring?" Craig asked, his head slumped against the Harbucks service counter. The place had been dead since 9:45, and they had another hour to go before closing.

"Ack! U-usually it's mornings and midday that are...nngh...busiest."

"Can't we just lock up early and leave?" Craig groaned.

"JESUS MAN, NO!" Tweek yelped, shaking his head back and forth so hard Craig thought it might roll clean off his shoulders, "OH GOD I'd be in so much trouble! B-besides, what if a customer came up while we were -ngh- locking the store and t-they wanted coffee and got -nngggh!- angry and took out a knife! OH JESUS I DON'T WANT TO DIE! AGGH!" the blonde dug his fingers into his hair and tugged hard on the tangled locks. Craig shot him an annoyed look.

"Jesus Christ, Tweek. Calm the fuck down."

"S-sorry. I just...s-sometimes I think about things and just can't stop thinking about them and my mind gets kinda crazy, man!" he muttered something about the government before pulling a green and tan bag out from under the counter, "w-what's this?"

Craig turned his head slightly to look at the bag.

"Food. For Swirls, my guinea pig. I picked it up before my shift."

"Ngh! I thought your guinea pig's name was Stripe?" Tweek asked, cocking his head to the side and replacing the bag. Craig arched a brow, staring at Tweek in disbelief.

"Are you retarded? I mean, seriously, are you mentally challenged? I got Stripe when I was seven, guinea pigs only live about six years. Do the math."

"He died?"

"No, dumbass, he flew away in a rocket ship. Yes, he died. I got a new one a couple years ago. Swirls."

"Do you shove Swirls up your butt too?" Tweek asked with a feeble attempt at a friendly smile. Craig's eyes widened as he rounded on Tweek, grabbing him by the collar.

"What?"

"AH! Nnngh, I-I'm sorry! I-it was a joke! 'Cuz, OH GOD, r-remember? W-when Cartman and those guys made up -nngh!- lies about to get us to fight! I'm sorry, oh sweet god please don't kill me!"

"Tweek, if you value your miserable, fucked-up life, then you'll never say anything like that again," Craig pushed Tweek away from him and snatched his coat from under the counter, striding toward the door. Tweek landed on the floor with a yelp, staring up after Craig.

"W-where are you going? Your -ah!- shift isn't over!"

"Home. If you've got a problem with it, go whine to your daddy."

* * *

 A couple hours later, Craig Tucker was laying on his bed, flipping through the glossy pages of his favorite gay porn magazine in an attempt to calm down. 

It was a shame, Craig thought, that the only other gay kid in South Park was Stan fucking Marsh. They'd fooled around a bit, naturally, but Craig didn't appreciate Stan as anything more than a lay, and Stan only had eyes for Kyle anyway. They still screwed every now and then, when Craig was horny and unable to find anyone else to fuck, and when Stan was sulky and upset that he was in love with his best friend.

Stan was a fantastic lay. But he still pissed Craig right the fuck off. Craig couldn't count how many messed-up things had happened in South Park because of Stan and his little friends. Monsters, cults, inter-dimensional portals, time/space rifts; Craig had gotten sick of it long ago. And Stan seemed to think it was normal. He and his friends were all crazy bastards that could go to hell, as far as Craig was concerned.

Sighing, he tossed the magazine aside and sat. His mind wandered back to his last foray in the bedroom with Stan, how their hips rubbed together in delicious friction, how Stan's breathy moans caught in his throat.

He shook his head to get rid of the memory. He was tired, too tired to masturbate and too tired to think of that annoying asshole. He grabbed his pajamas and headed toward the bathroom.

_Ding Dong_

Ruby groaned and made her way to the door. If it was that annoying goth kid from her class again, coming to read her poetry about how she had raped his heart, she was literally going to kill him.

But when she opened the door, there stood a tall, thin blonde, holding a bag of guinea pig food in both twitching hands.

"Agh!" he screamed, as if surprised she had actually answered, "um..." he thrust the bag forward, shaking badly, "C-can you give this to Craig? H-he left it at Harbucks..."

"Go give it to that bastard yourself," Ruby snorted, simultaneously opening the door wider to let him in and flicking him off. Tweek stood confused on the doorstep.

"Ack! Why!"

"I'm not talking to him, he ate the last microwave taco. That bitch. He's up in his room, first one to the right. Well, are you coming in or not?"

Tweek yelped and ran inside awkwardly. Ruby shut the door, gave him a stern look, then walked away without a second glance. Groaning, Tweek hesitantly made his way to Craig's room.

Craig wiped the water off of his face with a blue terrycloth towel and slung it over the side of the tub. He paused in the mirror, inspecting his face stoically. Once he deemed it flawless, as always, he switched off the light and headed back into his room, tugging at the elastic of his Red Racer pajama bottoms.

He froze when he saw Tweek hovering over his bed, Craig's discarded gay porn in his hands. Tweeks long fingers brushed over the glossy abs of some obscure male model.

Craig cleared his throat. Tweek's head snapped up and he stared at Craig, eyes huge with worry.

"C-Craig! I just..." he looked at Craig, then back at the magazine, then back at Craig before dropping the thing like it was a particularly large palmetto bug, "i-it was on your b-bed and...nnghh...I didn't mean to look...but..."

"Well..." Craig said slowly, stalking toward Tweek. Tweek shrank away until his back was against the wall, "now that you know, I'm going to have to kill you."

"AAAH! OH SWEET JESUS NO!"

"Why'd you come here? To look through my porn?"

"N-no, oh god no!" Tweek shook his head violently. His eyes flicked to the bag of Nutriphase Organic guinea pig food on the bed, then back up at Craig, "You left that at the shop! Ah! I...I didn't want your guinea pig to go hungry!"

Craig eyed the bag warily, then looked at Tweek, silent for several seconds.

"...thanks. Now get the fuck out."

Tweek gave a small whimper and slipped past Craig, making his way toward the door of the room. Before he reached the entrance, however, he paused and turned to look at his ex-friend.

"Cr-craig...I..I...I'm...imnhghdlft..." he trailed off into an indecipherable mumble.

"What was that?" Craig snapped, becoming more and more annoyed by Tweek ever passing second.

"I...I'm..."

" _What_ , Tweek?"

"AH! I'M GAY TOO! OH GOD!"

And with that, Tweek zipped out the room like a chipmunk on speed. Craig could hear his rapid footsteps as they descended the stairs, heard as the front door slammed shut. Craig stared at his doorway.

Stan _fucking_ Marsh and Tweek _goddamn_ Tweak. They were the only other queer kids in South Park. They were his choices, if he wanted to get laid, to have a relationship, to fall in love.

Craig flipped himself off before he flopped into bed, because he felt very much screwed.


	2. The Wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I updated again!

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out_

_Calm yourself._

_Find your center._

_The world will continue to move around you, and that's okay._

_Let it move._

_Take solace in its constancy._

Tweek obeyed the voice of his therapist, the soothing memory of her words, and willed himself to be calm. The same tried and true technique; close your eyes, breathe deeply, imagine yourself sitting at a clear lake with peaceful deer frolicking around you...no gnomes, no slavery, no child abductors and, perhaps most importantly, no Cartman.

But the clang of a bell jolted him from his peace.

"Mr...Tweek Tweak?" the nurse called, glancing up from her clipboard, "you can follow me to Room 3."

Tweek stood and shuffled forward, twitching and trying to ignore the strange looks people gave him, the children laughing at his name. His doctor appointments took place in Denver; no one knew him there, and he was just fine with that. He didn't have to live with these people, he didn't have to impress them or try to convince him he was normal. No pressure.

Well, less pressure, at least.

"Take a seat, Tweek," the nurse nodded after she led him into the appropriate room, "the doctor will be in to see you momentarily."

Tweek nodded as she left.

He shouldn't have told Craig he was gay. Now that his peace was broken, that was the one thought running through his head. There were very few secrets in South Park, but Tweek had managed to keep most of his under wraps. They were his security blanket, the only cushion from the hurt people would irrevocably cause him should he let those secrets slip.

"Dammiiiiiit," Tweek hissed to himself, smacking his forehead with the flat of his palm, "Stupid, stupid, stupid Tweek..."

"Tweek," the doctor arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows in surprise as she entered the room, "have you been hurting yourself again?"

"Ah! No! I-I mean..." Tweek looked back and forth from his reddened palm to the doctor, stuttering, "I-I was j-just then, but I didn't mean to! Well, I kinda did, because -ngh!- I kinda deserved it because I did something r-really stupid, but, I mean, I'm not -JESUS!- punching myself or-or hitting my head against desks anymore! Nngh...much..."

"Tweek," the doctor sat in her swiveling chair and he flinched at the sudden sternness of her voice, "if you're doing those things, even a little bit, it's imperative that we increase your medication. Hurting yourself isn't normal."

"I-I know..." he closed his eyes tightly and tried to find his center, but it seemed to have run off somewhere.

"Hm...so, I understand you are still having difficulty sleeping? Have you cut back on the caffeine?"

Tweek nodded, his eyes still closed so she wouldn't see the truth reflected in them. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and Tweek's windows didn't have curtains.

"I see. All right, I want you to quit taking your previous sleep-aid as it obviously hasn't been helping. I'm going to write you a prescription for Restoril. Okay?"

"Ah! O-okay!"

As she penned her doctor's scrawl over the clipboard, she gave Tweek another stern look that made him jump slightly.

"And you are to take this drug only as prescribed. Do you understand this time, Mr. Tweak?"

"Ah! Oh god! Yes! I'm sorry!"

"It's all right. Now, you may be groggy in the mornings due to this medicine...it tends to stay in the system for a while. You should probably get one of your friends to drive you to school each morning until your body gets used to it. It's dangerous enough to drive on those winter roads without you being half-asleep."

"Nngh..."

"Tweek, did you hear me?"

"Y-yeah..." he gave an accepting bob of his head and cast his eyes downward, watching his hands tug almost violently at his shirt. No use in telling her the sad truth. He didn't want her detached pity.

He didn't have a friend to drive him.

* * *

"Your shift is over? Where's Tweek?" Stan asked, sliding into the booth across from Craig. Craig balled up his Harbucks apron and stuffed it between his thigh and the booth partition.

"Doctor's appointment. He's got at least a million of them every week."

"Oh," Stan paused to sip on his java chip frappuchino, "so, what's up? You don't usually call me wanting to hang out. I get the feeling you need me for something."

"You're smarter than you look, Marsh," Craig replied, ignoring Stan's raised eyebrow, "I wanted to tell you something."

"Oh god, please don't let this be a confession of love..." Stan gave Craig a look of contrition so somber that Craig almost believed it was real.

"You think everyone in the world is after your ass."

"Yes," Stan said seriously, after a pause, "so, I'm sure you didn't call me down here after work just for small talk. That's way too un-Craig-like."

He sighed and slouched against the counter, stirring halfheartedly at his iced coffee.

"I found out there's another one of us."

Stan raised his eyebrows again and flipped his palms upward in confusion.

"A gay kid, idiot. Someone we grew up with. Kind of."

"Everyone knows Butters is bi-curious, Craig."

Craig took a deep breath as he stared at Stan, who calmly looked up at him while sipping on his frappuchino. This was exactly why he had no interest in dating Stan; one of the many reasons, actually.

Reason Number Fourteen: Stan always assumed that he knew what everyone was talking about.

" _Tweek_ , you ass. I'm talking about Tweek. He came out to me last night."

Stan's head jerked up and he stared at Craig, his whipped cream-coated straw hanging precariously out of his mouth.

"Jesus Christ! Are you sure?"

"He screamed 'I'm gay' at me, and ran off," Craig responded in his typical monotone. Stan bit the side of his lip in what even Craig had to admit was a cute gesture, processing the information in that faggy little head of his. He lifted his eyes up at Craig curiously.

"Do I even want to know what prompted him to say that?"

"It's...a long story, not worth retelling," Craig sighed.

Silence lingered between them, their eyes each on their respective drinks. Craig prodded some ice with the tip of his straw, watching it bob in and out of the creamy liquid.

"I'm surprised," Stan announced after a while, "I mean, I thought coming out to someone would be 'too much pressure' for Tweek.”

"What are you rambling about?"

"Why would he tell you he was gay? Unless...he likes you, dude."

Craig nearly spilled over his coffee, staring at Stan's oddly calm face.

"What."

"Maybe he likes you? I dunno, it's a possibility. You guys hung out together a lot when you were little."

"I recall him being part of your sick little group there for a while," Craig snapped, frowning, "maybe he likes _you._ "

"Yeah, but he didn't tell  _me_ he was gay," he responded, "You know, Craig, Tweek's pretty goddamn weird, but I remember him being kinda cool when he needed to be. That time when me, Kyle and Cartman were kidnapped by Steven Spielberg, Tweek showed up with a rocket launcher to save us. I mean...he kind of failed, but it's the thought that counts."

"...you were kidnapped by Steven Spielberg."

"Yeah...see, we tried to form this club to save films from their directors..."

As Stan continued to explain, Craig checked off Reason Number Two of why he could never date Stan; shit like this. With a groan, he lay his forehead against the table.

"I can't believe that you and  _Tweek_  are the only goddamn lays available to me," he muttered against the plastic tabletop, cutting Stan off mid-story.

"Hey, asshole! You weren't complaining last time! Besides, you could do Butters too."

"I'm gay because I like  _men_ , Stan."

"...good point."

* * *

They stood at opposite ends of the counter, the soft beat of indie music drumming through the speakers in the background. It was another dead night at Harbucks. Craig found himself, once again, slumped over the cold laminate of the counter, watching Tweek out the corner of his eye. The blonde was wiping down one of the blenders, eyes turned down, almost shut, as if willing the awkward silence between them dissipate.

Craig cleared his throat and Tweek screamed and fell flat onto his bony rear-end.

"We're going to have to talk about what happened, Tweek," Craig muttered, not bothering to even raise his head.

"Ahh! Why?"

Craig winced at the high screech of Tweek's voice, which he swore had barely changed since elementary school.

"Because. We're kind of in the minority here. I mean, you and I are the only gay kids in South Park. Besides Stan. And Butters, I guess, but he's-"

"Oh my GOD!" Tweek shoved himself to his feet and gaped at Craig, "Stan is gay too?"

"Umm, yeah. Haven't you noticed the goo-goo eyes he makes at Broflovski?"

"KYLE IS GAY  _ _TOO__? OH CHRIST! E-everyone was queer this entire time and I didn't realize it?"

"Kyle's not gay. Stan's just in love with him or something."

"This...this...oh god, this is way too much to take in! I...I need a break!" Tweek ran past the counter toward the door, pushing it open with a little jingle of the bell. Craig stormed after him, huffing.

"Dammit, Tweek, I didn't bring that up just so you could flip the hell out," he followed Tweek into the frigid night air, rounding on the blonde. Tweek's nimble fingers were digging through the pocket of his trousers, from which he removed a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, he paused and looked at Craig.

"Nngh...d-do you want one?" he asked.

"...I didn't know you smoked."

"Agh! I don't do it often...Besides, the last time we h-hung out together, we were like...ngh...thirteen or something," Tweek said flatly. "I didn't s-smoke back then."

"...no, I guess you didn’t. Sure."

Craig took the extra cigarette that Tweek offered and borrowed the blonde's lighter. They blew thin smoke into the air, shuffling to keep warm.

"Y...you've come out already?" Tweek broke the silence with a puff of smoke, glancing over at Craig with his orb-like eyes, "everyone knows you're gay?"

"I don't remember telling you that," he replied blankly. Tweek shrugged, though it might have simply been a particularly violent seizure.

"I -ngh- guessed. B-back at your house, you didn't tell me not t-to tell anyone..."

Craig stood still for a moment, mulling this over. Tweek was more introspective than he appeared. In addition, the nicotine seemed to have lulled his jittery body and panicked mind. Disregarding the odd twitch or groan here and there, he could have almost been normal. Almost.

"Yeah, everyone knows. I don't care what people think about me."

"Ngh! And people know that S-Stan is queer too?"

"Yeah, he came out a couple of years ago. Where've you been, seriously? Do those special ed classes keep you that sheltered?"

Tweek breathed in deeply, then let out a long, brittle sigh.

"N-no, it's just a lot of work. I-I have issues where my brain just like, totally overloads on information, man! S-so I have to work on concentrating on one thing at a time, or I just freak out! And then, when it's time to remember the information, i-it's like scrambling through a room, w-with stacks and stacks of papers, and throwing them all around looking for the right one, but I can never -oh god!- find it! L-like even stuff I should know, like what's my favorite color? What _ _is__ my favorite color? OH CHRIST! I forgot it again!"

The lithe blonde closed his eyes tightly, shuddering as he took a deep drag out of his shortening cigarette. When he opened his eyes again, he focused them toward Craig.

"I learn the same information the rest of you do..." Tweek said slowly, measuring his words, "it just takes...ngh...more work for me to process. Between that, and...this..." he gestured helplessly at the brick building towering above them, "I guess I don't have t-time to pay attention to other things."

Craig stared down at the glowing embers of his cigarette. Honestly, he felt a little guilty. Every time he thought about Tweek in special ed classes, he'd pictured the blonde doing finger painting and macaroni art, not actually learning about George Orwell and function derivatives and abiotic factors.

"We've still got to talk about you being queer," he said after a while, and stubbed his smoke out with the bottom of his shoe.

"Ack! Why!"

"Because, like I said, we're in the minority here. It's just you and me...and that gaybo Stan. Well, and Butters, I guess. He's bi-curious, or whatever."

"Ah! I don't wanna talk about it! Nngh! There's already enough pressure as it is!"

"Relax, I'm not telling you to come skipping out of the closet. I just...I'm curious. Like...I mean, how did you first find out you were interested in guys?"

Tweek gave a jerky little twitch of his shoulders and stared at the withering stub of tobacco between his fingers.

"Mnh," Craig grunted at him, "well, as for me, I realized I was way too interested in Thomas. You remember Thomas, right?"

"Nngh...I never really hung out with him like you did..." Tweek crouched and buried his cigarette in the snow before sitting down against the pavement, cheeks cradled in his quivering hands.

"Oh. That's right. Well, I never got to hang with him much either. Just every now and then. But...yeah. When I got into my teens, I noticed I was attracted to him. And that I liked to look at guys."

"You guys -nngh- dated?"

"Me and Thomas? No way...Thomas is a lot of things, but gay isn't one of them. Besides, it's not like I was in love with the guy. It was just really fucking cool that he could say whatever he wanted. If I could say whatever I wanted without getting into trouble, I would be-"

"S-sooooo happy?" Tweek gave a tired smile. He looked different when he smiled, full and healthy instead of scared and strained.

Craig nodded and looked up at the cloudy night sky.

"Sooooo happy."

* * *

It was about five days into his sleep-aid prescription, his car laying in a ditch on the side of the road, that Tweek realized he probably shouldn't have been driving himself to school in the mornings after all. He forked over a hundred dollars for the tow charge and began his trek to school on foot, denying the truck driver's offer to take him there.Tweek had learned loooong ago not to trust strangers because they liked to abduct children and blow their brains out and drag the corpses to the woods to probably commit necrophilia and OH JESUS CHRIST NO! If Tweek had to die, he wanted it to be in a peaceful way, preferably without being forcibly sodomized before and/or after.

He wrapped his arms around his torso to ward off the chill, his shoes scraping against the asphalt. Every now and then a car would pass and he'd jump, scream, and fall into a snow bank on the side of the road. By the time he got within sight of the school, he was cold, wet and dirty. However, as he made his way through the parking lot, he was joined by someone equally cold, wet and dirty, distinguishable by the trademark orange parka he wore.

"Gah!" Tweek yelled as Kenny sidled up beside him. Kenny looked at him as they walked. "I...um...-nngh-...I-I'm really sorry about spilling that coffee on your hands a while back! Oh god! It was an accident!"

Kenny pulled his hands out of his pockets; his hands were bare, the skin healed over except for a few shiny puckered scars.

"Iheelrlyqck," he mumbled carelessly through his parka, shrugging.

"Ah! Oh god! That's so c-cool! You could be a s-superhero or something. L-like Wolverine...except his hair is -GAH!- scary!"

Kenny gave Tweek a knowing smile that was hidden by a heavy layer of fluff.

"Wyrntudrvngtoskooltday?"

"I -OH JESUS!- ran my car into a ditch because I was groggy...this new medicine I'm -nngh- taking..."

Kenny frowned and pulled back his hood as they approached the entrance to the school.

"That's not cool, man. You could've been hurt," he said in concern. Tweek turned toward him in shock. He couldn't remember ever seeing Kenny without his face half hidden by that hood. Tweek's heart began beating faster than usual, even without the addition of caffeine. Kenny was hot.

Kenny stared back at Tweek for a while before his lips slowly spread into a grin.

"Oooh..." he murmured, "I see..."

"Gah! See what?" Tweek yelped, looking around crazily, "I-I didn't say anything!"

"You don't have to say anything. The look on your face was enough. Don't worry dude, I won't tell anyone that you totally get boners for guys."

Tweek froze. Kenny kept walking past him, down the hallway into the school.

"And you should probably get someone to drive you to school in the mornings!" Kenny called over his shoulder, giving Tweek a careless wave goodbye.

Tweek groaned, closed his eyes tightly, and tried to find his center. And suddenly, he remembered, his favorite color was blue.

* * *

Stan was staring miserably across the cafeteria as Craig passed.

"You're not gonna seduce anyone looking like that," he said flatly, pausing to look down at the seated boy.

"Craig, piss off..." Stan answered, but his heart wasn't in it. He continued to stare past Craig to Kyle, who stood in the lunch line arguing with one of the cooks, probably about how something wasn't Kosher.

"Craig, I'm taking applications for new friends, if you'd like to sign up," Cartman offered as he looked over a clipboard full of names, checking a few of them off, "I finally realize that I can't hang out with a fag and a Jew anymore. Especially not when the fag is lusting after the Jew. That's like ten times the grossness."

"I'm gay too," Craig reminded him. Cartman gave a dramatic, weary sigh.

"Yes, but you don't act like  _that _,__ " he flicked his eyes sharply to the side at Stan, "maybe I should go ask Token...it'd be sweet to have a rich best friend."

"Speaking from experience, he won't give you any money," he said, turning to leave. He quite suddenly found himself face-to-face with Tweek, who seemed to have scampered up out of nowhere.

"Gah! Craig! I'm so glad I -nngh!- found you! I...I...oh god...I...I..."

"Tweek. What."

"OH GOD! Pressure!" Tweek grasped the front of his poorly buttoned shirt, tugging at the already stressed fabric, "I um...I was wondering if you'd drive me to school in the mornings!"

Stan snapped out of his reverie, turning to look at Tweek with a surprised expression. Craig just stared at him.

"I don't have a car. You know that."

"Y-yeah, I know! I thought maybe you could walk to my house in the mornings, then -oh christ- drive me in -nngh!- my car!"

"...why."

"Gah! My doctor said I needed someone to drive me in the morning! I'm too groggy! Way too groggy! I'm gonna get into another wreck, man! Nngh! Except this time it'll be serious and I'll die! Or -OH GOD!- worse, hit someone else and kill them! Then I'll go to jail for manslaughter and get raped! OH JESUS, THE PRESSURE!" Tweek's hands moved from his shirt to his hair, clamping down firmly on the wild yellow locks.

Craig remained silent for several seconds, letting Tweek tug at his hair and glance around as if looking for reinforcements.

"...we'll talk about it at work."

"B-but your next shift isn't until tomorrow night! I need someone to drive me here in the morning! Oh sweet Jesus please!"

"You can manage for one more day. We'll talk about it at work."

Tweek bit his lip hard, his eyes darting back and forth as he weighed his options. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, he gave a jerky little nod and awkwardly shuffled off, wringing his shirt between his thin hands.

"Dude," Stan narrowed his eyes at Craig, "why won't you just give him a damn ride?"

"I like walking to school. It's me time. Besides, I don't think I could stand to be around that guy for more than 25 hours a week."

"But his doctor told him he can't drive in the mornings! He could hurt himself!"

"Then you know what, Stan? Why don't  _you_ give him a ride?" with a particularly aggressive flick of his middle finger, he began to make his way to his own table.

"Fine!" he heard Stan yell behind him, "I will! Tweek, where are you? Damn, where'd that kid go?"

Craig could tell Stan had bustled off in a huff to find Tweek. He was suddenly struck with the wild notion that Stan and Tweek might bond, might fuck, might start a relationship, might fall in love.

And then where would that leave him?


	3. The Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I have lived in Florida and enjoyed it, so if there are any angry Floridians reading, please. Don't be angered by Kyle's comment.

"Kyle...Kyle, get your hand away from that knob!"

"Come on, Stan, turn it up! This is a good song!" the redhead groaned, irately nodding toward the car's dashboard where radio was playing.

"Uh-I like it too!" Butters piped up happily from the back seat, "That Ms. Gaga sure is talented!"

"Yeah, that's what you guys always say," Stan muttered, pressing the brakes as they reached a red light, "I still can't believe that  _I'm_ the gay one but you guys are the ones fawning over Lady Gaga all the time."

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Kyle quipped with a pleased smirk, "so, can I turn it up?"

"No. The fact that it's on at all is already testing my patience."

"Aw hamburgers!"

"C'mon dude..." Kyle groaned, but slumped back against the seat and crossed his arms in defeat.

"You're totally my bitch, Kyle," Stan grinned.

"Not cool, dude!"

"Uh-hey Stan?" Butters pressed his nose against his window before turning back to look at the driver, "Why're we pickin' up Tweek, again?"

"Because Craig's being a dick and won't drive Tweek to school, and I don't want Tweek to crash and die in a horrible fiery death," Stan gave the steering wheel a sharp turn down a neighborhood street.

"That's nice of you, dude. Are you in love with him?"

"Jesus Christ, Kyle!" he shot Kyle a look, noting unhappily that his best friend seemed rather smug, "I'm not in love with Tweek. We haven't even hung out in years. Forgive me for not wanting someone to die, okay?"

"That's awful sweet of you, Stan," Butters said earnestly, "I reckon Tweek probably needs a friend. Are you gonna ask him out on a date?"

"Goddamnit!" he pulled up in front of Tweek's house, stomping on the brake and shoving the gear into park a bit harder than needed, "will you two stop that!"

Kyle just laughed as Stan flung open his door and stormed up the drive to Tweek's doorway. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell, the door creaked open and Tweek shuffled out, his messenger bag strapped across his chest and a hot thermos of coffee in his hands.

"O-oh...hi, Tweek," Stan stood back a little in surprise, "you ready?"

Tweek nodded, his lids half closed over normally wide-open eyes. As they made their way to the car, he weaved to and fro slightly and even managed to bump into his own mailbox. Kyle and Butters watched from inside the car, brows raised.

"Dude. You okay?" Stan paused as Tweek got to the car and tried unsuccessfully to open the back side door.

"Nngh...yeah...just really...uh...jesus...groggy! This medicine, man...crazy...probably the government..."

He muttered something else about the Pentagon before finally managing to open the door. Adjusting his bag slightly, he slipped in next to Butters.

"Well gee, Tweek, you look awful tired."

"Gah! Y-yeah, I know...it'll wear off in a couple of hours...nngh...thanks for this, Stan. I really didn't want to run into another ditch...expensive..."

"Sure thing, dude," Stan shrugged as they pulled away from the curb, "you can just make it up to me next time I come by Harbucks."

"W-wha? How?" Tweek asked, fingers tightening around his thermos and a light blush settling over his cheeks.

"Free coffee, duh!" Stan laughed and Tweek couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

Craig may have been the object of Tweek's affections, but Tweek wasn't blind. Stan had been a good-looking kid and he'd grown into a great-looking teen, with jet black hair and high cheekbones left over from some distant Cherokee ancestor, a strong chin and beautiful almond-shaped eyes. And apparently, he liked guys. Of course, Tweek knew he'd never have a chance with someone like Stan. Especially not if...what was it Craig had said?

_"Kyle's not gay. Stan's just in love with him or something."_

Then again, maybe that gave them even ground to stand on. While Tweek wasn't in  _ _love__ with Craig, he admitted that he did have a rather serious crush on the stoic boy.

With sudden misery, Tweek wondered why Stan and Craig didn't just get together. They'd be good together, he thought with growing despair, and they were both incredibly good-looking. They'd probably be the hottest couple in South Park.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Kyle and Stan bickering, and a quick glance out the window confirmed they were already nearing the school.

"Why would you go to college in  _Florida,_ Stan?" Kyle was asking, spitting the state's name out as if it left a bad taste on his tongue, "it's full of old people and intolerant Bible-thumpers!"

"I've decided it's either there or California, and I don't wanna live in a state with crazy taxes and people walking around looking like dried meat. Besides, Florida has Orlando and Sea World."

"California has Sea World too, dude!"

"Yeah okay, but if I went to the Sea World in California, could I visit Harry Potter World an hour later? No. So Florida it is."

"Son of a bitch," Kyle sighed in exasperation as they pulled into the parking lot.

"I like Florida!" Tweek offered with a jerky shrug, "It's...nngh...there are no gnomes there! They can't survive in sub-tropical temperatures!"

"There's another good reason," Stan glanced at Kyle sternly as he shut off his shuddering car with the twist of his key, "no gnomes."

"W-what's this about gnomes?" Butters asked. Kyle just shook his head.

"You're better off not knowing."

"You mean 'not gnome-ing'," Stan offered with a grin.

"You really are a gigantic fag, dude," Kyle said as they exited the car. Stan frowned a little, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Whatever, I gotta get to the gym," he muttered and started heading off in a rather dejected shuffle. Kyle watched him go, his mouth set in a thin line, before turning to look at Butters.

"Come on, we'll be late for World Mythology..." he paused and flicked his deep green eyes toward Tweek, who flinched as if struck, "I guess we'll all just meet back here once school's over. I mean, we're driving you back home, right?"

"Ah! Uh...I think so...?"

"Cool. See ya, dude."

"Uh-bye, Tweek!" Butters gave a little wave and he and Kyle weaved their way through the sea of cars.

Tweek turned his tired eyes to Stan, now just a far-away figure in a blue puffball hat. He felt now that they had a lot in common.

* * *

_There's a woman_

_On the outside_

_Looking inside_

_Does she see me?_

Craig tilted his head toward the song filtering through the store speakers above the din of blenders and customer conversation.

_No she does not_

_Really see me,_

_She sees her_

_Own reflection_

Bebe was at the counter, cheerily handing a large white chocolate mocha to some poor shmuck who definitely didn't need the added calories. He stuck a fiver into the tip jar before he gave an embarrassed smile and left. Apparently the more boobs you had, the more tips you got.

"Bebe, what the hell is up with this music?" he sauntered behind the counter, tying his apron in the back and staring down at her with what he sincerely hoped was an intimidating glare. She didn't seem too bothered by it.

"What about it?"

"I mean, it's not the usual shit that plays here. It's even shittier."

"Well, _I_  like it," she scoffed with a hearty roll of the eyes, "besides, it's not my music, it's Tweek's. Sometimes he likes to hook his iPod up to the speakers. It calms him down."

"Why the hell does he need calming down? He doesn't  _ _do__  anything. He just sits in the back until all the customers have gone."

"He does stuff!" Bebe exclaimed, though in a tone of voice which implied that she didn't really know whether Tweek did stuff or not.

"Ugh...here's an idea, why don't you stay for lock-up with him tonight? You guys can talk about what it's like to have frizzy blonde hair."

Bebe shot him a nasty glare and threw a rag at him.

"Clean the counters, grunt," she snapped and stormed off to greet another customer.

_To the bells of the cathedral..._

_I am thinking of your voice..._

Craig abandoned the rag on the back counter, leaving it draped carelessly across the top of a chocolate sprinkle jar. He shoved open the heavy green door to the back where he found Tweek in the break room, standing on a chair and dusting the top of the vending machine.

"Tweek."

"OH JESUS!" Tweek screamed and toppled over. Craig cursed under his breath and darted forward, thankful that the vending machine was so close to the door. He caught Tweek in his outstretched arms before tumbling to the floor, Tweek splayed out on top of him, the feather duster still clutched tight in his trembling hand.

"Augh...damn..." Craig groaned, closing his eyes as dull pain throbbed throughout his back.

"Gah! Oh god! Craig! Have I killed you? Oh Jesus Christ please forgive me!"

Tweek pushed himself up on his hands and knees, pressing his free hand against Craig's cheek.

"I'm  _fine _,__  Tweek," Craig grunted, pushing Tweek's hand away before sitting up. Tweek stood with his thin legs quaking, offering his hand to help Craig up. The dark haired boy looked at it skeptically before accepting, sliding his hand into Tweek's.

He found himself surprised at how soft Tweek's hands were; his skin was supple and soft and cool to the touch.

"Ngh! A-are you sure you're okay? You didn't have to catch me!"

"Yes I did, because I don't want to have to clean up your gray matter when you bust your head open on the floor."

"Oh Jesus!"

"Tweek, we need to talk."

"Gah! About you driving me?"

Craig paused. He had honestly forgot that Tweek had asked him to drive them to school in the morning.

"Uh...yeah. That. But first, what the hell was that music?" he gestured toward one set of several speakers wired throughout the building, "we're not in the 90's anymore."

"Ack! It was written in the 80's!"

"That's even worse," Craig said sourly while reaching around to try and rub the pain in his back away.

"Jesus! Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, Tweek."

"Gah! Nngh...if you say so...um...so, do you want to talk about you -jesus christ!- driving me to school?"

Craig closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No, not right now...later tonight when it's dead. Bebe's out there alone right now and the bitch probably needs my help, since you're obviously useless. I just came in to tell you to change the music to something...not stupid."

He rubbed the sore spot on his back and grimaced before pulling open the door and leaving.

Tweek stood there, gripping his hair in both fists.

"Something not stupid? W-what kind of music isn't stupid? Craig? Can you hear me? Oh Jesus! The pressure! Oh god, what do I do? What if he doesn't like the music I turn it to! Gah! He'll come back here and...and yell at me! O-or steal my underpants, like the gnomes!"

Tweek paused, his hands slipping down from his hair. The notion of Craig stealing his underpants didn't sound so bad. Certainly not as bad as when the gnomes did it. At 3:30 every morning, like clockwork, he'd lay in his bed with his eyes wide open in the darkness and watch as those little singing bastards stole pair by pair of his underpants. Boxers, briefs, it didn't matter to them. His parents still didn't believe that his underpants were being stolen, and any mention of gnomes was enough to send him back to Dr. Norris.

But Craig...Craig was welcome to slip in during the dark hours of the morning and rummage through Tweek's drawers. He could even take the ones Tweek was wearing, Tweek wouldn't mind. Craig could lean over his bed, his eyes pinpoints of light in the darkness, and whisper delicious words with his hot breath on Tweek's ear...

"Jesus Christ..." Tweek groaned and simply pulled the stereo plug out of his iPod. It was just simpler not to think about it. About anything.

* * *

A few hours and several annoying customers later, Craig was alone again with Tweek, staring blankly at the empty room in front of him.

"I've decided I'll do it," he said without shifting his gaze.

"Gah! You will? Do what?"

"Drive you to school in the mornings, dumbass," Craig rubbed his temples in exasperation, "I'll do it. With some conditions."

Tweek glanced nervously around the abandoned cafe, clutching at the laminate countertop so hard his fingertips turned white. He finally looked at Craig, biting his bottom lip with anxiety.

"Conditions?"

"Yeah. If I'm going to have to drive you around anyway, I want to drive us to and from work. When our schedules are the same. And you have to let me borrow your car if I want to go to the mall or something. Or to a concert in Denver."

"OH GOD! Denver? My car?"

"Yes," he turned his serious eyes toward Tweek.

"Gah! T-that's not fair! It's  _my_ car!"

Craig smirked slightly and Tweek quailed. Tweek didn't have a habit of sticking up for himself; it was almost cute.

"Those are the conditions."

"Oh Jesus! Oh man..." Tweek moaned and pressed his face into the hands, beginning to pace up and down the counter. He muttered into his palms and shook his head in jerky little movements, arguing with himself. And finally, he stopped and let out a resigned sigh.

"Okay."

"I thought so. Well, how about we celebrate by locking this shithole up early and heading to my house?"

"Gah! But...w-we can't lock up early!"

"I don't think ten minutes is gonna hurt. Besides, no one comes in this late at night. Ever."

He gestured around the sad, empty cafe. A lone tumbleweed rolled along outside, despite the fact that there was no breeze and they weren't exactly in the right climate for tumbleweed.

"B-but..."

"Tweek, do you want to get into a fiery wreck in the morning or not?"

"OH GOD! JESUS NO!"

"That's what I thought."

Craig watched with what he realized was a sick sense of fulfillment as Tweek fumbled with the keys and locked up the building.

The drive to Craig's house wasn't bad; it was a fair distance away, but Tweek remained silent for most of the trip besides the occasional 'gah!' or ' _oh christ!' _.__  Craig liked driving Tweek's car; it was the kind of car he wanted when he saved enough money. Simple, practical. Nothing flashy. Hopefully not maroon, though. He pulled into the driveway of his house and turned off the car, tossing the keys to Tweek before cracking open the driver's-side door.

"I'm guessing you can make it to your house okay?" he peered at Tweek through the darkness, his hand on the door handle.

"Uh...I...gah! Craig, I was...ngh...wondering...um..."

"What."

"I...oh Jesus...um...c-can I go in with you and meet Swirls?"

Craig stared long and hard at Tweek, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"...what?"

"Gah! I...I didn't get to see Swirls the other night! It's just that...nngh...I really like animals but I can't have any pets because then I'd -oh god- be in charge of a whole 'nother living thing that would depend on me to stay happy and -JESUS!- fed and watered and what if I forgot to feed it one day or accidentally stepped on it or dropped in in the garbage disposal or AGGH! TOO MUCH PRESSURE! ...also, my mom is allergic."

Craig appraised the situation. On one hand, he wasn't sure if he should let Tweek anywhere near Swirls. On the other hand, he really, _really_  loved to show off his guinea pig pride and joy.

"All right. But only for a minute, I'm tired and I want some fucking sleep."

"Ah!" Tweek merely let out a scream in reply. Craig sighed and ushered Tweek into his home.

He led Tweek up the stairs to his bedroom and flicked on the light, where he was greeted by a familiar sound.

_Whoop whoop whoop whoop!_

"JESUS, MAN!" Tweek screeched, grabbing ahold of Craig's arm, "what the hell is that noise?"

"That's the noise guinea pigs make," he shook Tweek off of his arm and kneeled down in front of an large cage made of purple and green wire. Swirls ran to and fro in front of the cage door, whooping excitedly. Craig opened the door and lifted Swirls up, holding her gently in his hands.

Swirls was big, by guinea pig standards, covered by long whorls of black and caramel-colored fur. Craig poked her twitching nose and she responded by trying to burrow in the crook of his arm.

_Whoop whoop whoop!_

Tweek stared in amazement, once again biting his lip. Craig offered him a rare smile.

"Wanna hold her?"

"GAH! Hold her?"

"Yeah. She won't bite or anything. And she's litter trained."

"OH JESUS! You can litter train guinea pigs?"

"Yeah. It's kinda difficult, but worth it because you don't have to pick up shit everywhere...c'mon, sit down," he nodded for Tweek to sit. Once they were both sitting cross-legged across from each other, he slowly handed Swirls over to Tweek, who cupped her in his hands before bringing her safely against his chest.

_Whoop whoop whoop!_

Craig watched in amusement as Swirls sniffed and nuzzled at Tweek's thin plaid shirt, giving the material a little nibble before deciding it definitely wasn't lettuce and therefore she didn't want any. She raised her chubby little face up at Tweek, bobbing her nose in the air as she investigated his scent, the smell of coffee beans.

Craig looked at Tweek's face, expecting him to be terrified of this vicious little furball in his arms.

Tweek was grinning.

No, he was practically  _glowing_  with the simple joy of holding this little creature in his arms. Craig couldn't help but stare; he hadn't seen that smile in years. Even when they were friends, he couldn't remember Tweek smiling much. And when he had, it had been small, awkward smiles. Smiles that didn't look like they belonged below Tweek's worried eyes.

And much in the way Craig thought the prudish Christian lady from The Office was pretty hot when she smiled, he couldn't help but think the same thing about Tweek.

"Gah! I think she likes me, man!" Tweek exclaimed gleefully as Swirls gingerly picked her way from Tweek's arms to his lap, scurrying up and down his long thighs.

"I uh...I think so too. Here," Craig reached over and grabbed a small plastic package from beside the cage, plucking a bluish wafer from it. He handed it to Tweek, "Yogurt chips. She fucking loves these things."

Tweek held the wafer between his forefinger and thumb and offered it to Swirls. The guinea pig immediately accepted, chewing enthusiastically on the little chip as Tweek held it in place between his fingers.

"Holy shit, dude!" Tweek said excitedly, his grin growing even larger, "she's -gah!- eating from my hand!"

Craig was ready to deliver one of his typical scathing, sarcastic remarks...but decided, just this once, to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

The next morning, Craig kept his word and drove Tweek to school. And even through his drug-induced torpor, all he could talk about was Swirls. Craig kept up the pretense of not caring, but he was secretly ecstatic. Finally, someone who saw Swirls for the amazing guinea pig she was! He'd tried to explain her superiority to Token and Clyde before, but they'd just given him looks and said she was a fancy rat. He had then kicked them out of his house.

Tweek seemed to have all but fallen in love with the guinea pig. Whenever he and Craig got off work together, they'd drive to Craig's house and Tweek would immediatly make a beeline for Craig's room. More often than not, he'd be clutching a bag of presents for the guinea pig; a little cardboard tube for her to run through, or a honey cluster bar for her to gnaw on.

Craig thought Tweek was going to blow a gasket the first time he gave Swirls some lettuce.

"Gah! Craig, look!" he squealed, not unlike a pre-teen girl at a Justin Bieber concert, "she's got lettuce juice running down her chin! AUGH GOD! It should be really gross, but it's just adorable!"

And so, on a rainy Saturday night, brought together by their love for what they both considered the most amazing animal in the world, they actually hung out together, like actual friends. Tweek knew it was a big step, and had all intents and purposes of treating the situation with the delicacy that it deserved. Of course, all that went out the window when Swirls tried to crawl up his pants leg and he broke down in a gleeful squealing fit.

Craig looked up from flipping through a Red Racer comic book.

"Try not to wake the dead or anything," he grumbled and turned the page. Tweek gave a nervous little grin and pulled Swirls away from the cuff of his trousers.

"Hey Craig, can I -nngh- give her another yogurt chip?"

"Jesus, Tweek. You've already given her three in the past hour, you're gonna make her fat."

"No I'm not! Yogurt is -gah- healthy!"

"No more yogurt chips."

"Nngh...okay...how about the orange drops I got her? T-they're in my bag! Can I give one to her? Oh god, Craig! Please?"

"Ugh, god. Fine," Craig rolled his eyes and set his magazine aside. Tweek's faded messenger bag was at the foot of the bed; Craig pulled it toward him and began rummaging around inside until he found the package. He threw it at Tweek, causing the blond to give a yelp as it bounced off his head. Tweek then busied himself with ripping open the package and clicking his tongue, trying to lure the exploring guinea pig over to him.

Craig leaned back on the bed when he saw a shine of green metal in Tweek's bag; the blonde's accursed iPod. He pulled it out and began flicking through Tweek's music.

Bobby Darin, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby...

"Jesus Christ, Tweek, my  _grandma_  listened to this shit when she was like...three."

"Gah! Craig!" Tweek snapped his head up, dropping the treat on the floor and springing up to snatch the iPod away from Craig. Craig pulled it back, a teasing smile on his face. Swirls darted past Tweek's feet to nibble on the discarded snack.

"Too late. I've already seen your playlist, grandpa."

"Nngh! Craig! Give it back!" Tweek threw himself at Craig, landing on top of the black-haired boy with a grunt. Craig only smirked and held the iPod slightly out of the scrabbling blonde's reach. Whenever the thin hands would try and make a grab for it, he'd jerk it out of the way again. Tweek made a particularly long stretch for the iPod and Craig saw his opportunity, easily flipping the lithe blonde around and pinning him to the bed.

"Craig!" Tweek struggled beneath him, but all Craig had to do to keep him in place was sit on him. Craig was the average weight for a boy his size and age, but Tweek definitely wasn't; it seemed as though he'd float away in a breeze. Combined with that and his definite lack of muscle mass, he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Tweek slowly stopped struggling, and looked up at Craig.

His eyes were hazel, Craig noticed. Light brown with bright green streaked throughout. Hazel and framed by a heavy fringe of eyelashes. They were easy to miss, lost in the shadows of anxiety and sleeplessness that hung over Tweek's eyes. His skin was pale and smooth, his lower lip a blush red from biting at it almost constantly. His ever-moving body quivered underneath Craig. It was suddenly very hot in the room.

"Craig," Tweek breathed, his voice soft in contrast to his shaking body. Craig let the iPod slip from his hands onto the covers, and rested his hands on Tweek's shoulders before giving a largely experimental roll of his hips against Tweek's. The blonde gave a gasping moan and clenched his eyes, bucking his hips up out of instinct.

"Mnh..." Craig groaned before he could stop himself and pushed up against Tweek again. And Tweek pushed back. Their hearts thudded quickly in their chests; Tweek was used to his beating faster than the average human's, but now it felt like a locomotive getting ready to leave the station.

Craig leaned in closer to Tweek, teenage lust in his dark eyes. Their panting mouths were only a breath away when Tweek gave a wild spasm, his left eye twitching open and closed.

Craig pulled away from Tweek, studying him with a frown. The blonde shook like a leaf underneath him, his eye still twitching sporadically, the other gazing at Craig in both pleasure and confusion.

_I almost kissed this twitchy little freak._

And with that sickening thought, Craig grabbed Tweek's iPod and stood, stuffing the little device into Tweek's hands.

"Here. You'd better go, I'm tired."

Tweek sat up on his elbows, looking from the iPod to Craig. His fit seemed to have passed, replaced now by bewilderment.

"Nngh...C-Craig...but..."

"Go, Tweek. I'm tired," he bent down to scoop up Swirls, placing her safely back in her cage. She gave a confused  _whoop?_  that mirrored exactly how Tweek felt. Slowly and uncertainly, Tweek stood and shouldered his bag. He shuffled toward the door and paused in front of it, looking at Craig.

"Gah...can I still come over and play with Swirls?"

"Later," Craig muttered, flopping over on his bed and grabbing his cell phone, flipping through his contacts.

Tweek got the message. He bit the inside of his cheeks to remind himself not to say anything else, and made his way out the room.

Craig lay still on the bed, his head cocked to the side until he heard the telltale crunch of gravel as Tweek's car pulled out of the driveway. He turned his attention back to the phone, punching at the keypad with his thumbs.

_To: Stan Marsh 11:54 PM- what r u doing_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:55 PM- english lit project. due mon. why?_

_To: Stan Marsh 11:55 PM- booty call_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:56 PM- srsly?_

_To: Stan Marsh 11:56 PM- yes_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:57 PM- i'm not driving all the way to your house just to pleasure you. are your parents home?_

_To: Stan Marsh 11:58 PM- yeah but they dont give a fuck_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:58 PM- no way. I can't do it with other people in the house, that freaks me out._

_To: Stan Marsh 11:59 PM- you're a pussy, stan_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:59 PM- maybe tomorrow, my parents are going to a conference about rocks or some shit. I'll text you._

_To: Stan Marsh 11:59 PM - you better, i'm horny_

_From: Stan Marsh 11:59 PM - I will._

Craig sighed and lay his arm across his eyes, the cell phone still clutched in his hand. He was all worked up and hot now, but his hand just wouldn't cut it this time. He wanted human contact. Stan wasn't optimal, but at least he didn't twitch like a monkey with mercury poisoning.

The cell phone gave a curt buzz in Craig's hand, signalling the arrival of a new text message. Craig flipped it open, hoping Stan had changed his mind.

_From: Tweek 12:00 AM - I'm sorry._


	4. The Hallucination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's hard to believe I wrote this five years ago. I'd write a lot of things differently now, having been in the South park fandom for longer. But, c'est la vie!

"I can't believe you walked all the way here in the freezing rain just to get laid."

Craig stood on Stan's doorstep, bulky in layers of clothing to keep him warm and a rain slicker to keep him dry. He gave a slight lift of his shoulders, hands stuffed in the slicker's pockets.

"I can't either. You could have picked me up."

"No way, man!  _ _You're__  the one asking for sex. I could be finishing up that project instead of letting you feel me up."

Regardless, Stan stepped aside. Craig shook the rain droplets off himself and strode inside, closing his eyes in relief at the warm blast of air he was greeted with. Truly, modern heating was one of the great marvels of man.

Craig shed his slicker and overcoat, leaving them draped across the back of the dining room chair. Stan studied him quietly, something that didn't go unnoticed by his visitor.

"What."

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing, you're staring at me. What."

"I dunno, dude, I just..." Stan peered up at Craig uncomfortably, "I kinda thought you and Tweek had a thing going on?"

Craig nearly choked on his own spit.

" _ _What?__ "

"You guys have just been kinda hanging around each other lately. And you started driving him around and stuff and haven't even been bitching about it, and Kenny even said he saw Tweek's car at your house for a long time the other day."

"What the  _ _hell__  is Kenny doing watching my house?"

"I dunno, dude. You know Kenny, he's...different."

"He's a stalker."

"At least he admits it...he told Kyle point-blank the other day that he'd been on his roof for like three hours that previous night..."

"That...doesn't make it any better. At all," Craig told Stan flatly, "I don't have anything going on with Tweek. God, I mean...would you?"

"I dunno" Stan flopped down on the couch and picked at one of the loose fibers, "no, probably not. But he's attractive, in a weird way. Definitely not bad looking."

"That's not the point. He could look like friggin' Cillian Murphy and I still wouldn't date him. I can barely stand to be around him at work...he's paranoid, can't focus on  _ _anything__ , is convinced that gnomes are stealing his underwear-"

"They actually are."

"-and he twitches constantly. God, the whole twitching thing, I mean, he looks like a retarded kid when he does that. Especially when he does that whole head-jerk/eye-twitch/shirt-tug sequence, which happens like...every ten seconds.  _ _What__  are you looking at me like that for?"

An amused smirk graced Stan's lips as he spread his arms across the back of the couch.

"Craig, I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk at once. And it was pretty animated. For you, at least."

Craig simply stood in front of Stan, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. His foot gave a light  _ _tap-tap-tap__  on the carpet before he realized he was behaving like an angry mother. He willed his foot still and uncrossed his arms.

"And?"

" _ _And.__..I just think it's not out of the question that you might be attracted to Tweek without even realizing it."

Craig's stomach gave a cold little lurch.

The words struck a chord in him. He couldn't deny that Tweek must have attracted him somehow...why else would he have ended up on top of Tweek, practically grinding him into the bed? But the spasms and paranoia were just too much. They had overpowered all the good things about the skinny blonde, his honey-hazel eyes and his full, pink lips.

"I mean..." Stan continued, more to himself than to Craig, "that's kinda how I found out I liked Kyle...I kept talking about him all the time. The good and the bad, dude. Mostly the bad, I think I was angry at myself for being obsessed with him. Then one day Kenny said 'If you like Kyle so much why don't you stick your dick in him' and I thought 'Wow, that'd actually be kind of awesome.'"

"No. No way. I'm not in love with Tweek like you are with Kyle."

"I didn't say you were in love with him!" Stan snapped back indignantly, his face turning a healthy shade of red, "I'm saying you want to screw him!"

"At this point, it'd probably be better than screwing you," Craig spat back, his arms crossed, "I didn't come here for a lecture and your lovesick drama."

"No, you only came here to get laid because you can't find anyone else to do it!" Stan stood angrily, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Fuck you, Marsh," Craig whipped up his middle finger and held it firmly in front of Stan's pretty, fuming face, "I bet I could get your little Jew friend in bed. You're just too scared to try it."

"Motherfucker," Stan breathed, his nostrils flaring in anger, "get the fuck out of my house, Craig."

Craig jerked his rain slicker and overcoat from the back of the chair so hard that it fell over with a heavy  _ _thunk__  onto the floor. He stalked toward the door, his free hand's middle finger extended the whole time, and stormed out.

The wind howled in his face and the freezing rain stung his skin, as if to tell him he'd screwed up. And he had. While Stan wasn't necessarily one of his favorite people, he had a good heart and it hadn't been fair to pick at his weak spot. And Kyle was definitely the weakest of his weak spots. He wouldn't have blamed Stan for punching him, but luckily Stan wasn't the violent type.

Craig slowed to pull his overcoat over his head along with his rain slicker. He was more angry and cold now than aroused. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he flicked through his text messages with the intentions of deleting every single one labeled 'Stan Marsh'.

But the first one he pulled up was the one from Tweek the previous night.

__From: Tweek 12:00 AM - I'm sorry._ _

That was two people he'd alienated in a less than 24-hour period. And, unfortunately, they were currently the only two people who understood the precarious position of being a gay kid in high school.

Craig bit his lip. The gesture reminded him of Tweek.

With a sigh, Craig closed his cell phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

__Click. Clack. Click. Clack._ _

Tweek lay on his side under the covers, flipping his cell phone open and closed. He stared at the screen with drug-glazed eyes, struggling to remember exactly  _ _why__  he had his phone in his hand.

Billie Holiday sang in muted tones from his speakers, her sad voice drifting over his ears.

__My heart is tellin' you_ _

__How much I wanted you_ _

__Gloomy Sunday..._ _

It vaguely occurred to Tweek that laying in bed while high on drugs, staring at your cell phone in case someone called and listening to a song about potential suicide was possibly just the tiniest bit emo.

__'Oh Jesus, please don't let me be emo...'__  he thought miserably. He really had enough problems.

It had felt so good, so natural, to have been entwined with Craig, in his room that smelled of cedar chips and Craig's favorite cinnamon gum. But he had obviously made Craig angry. Tweek wasn't stupid, he knew it was his involuntary twitching that had turned Craig's horny switch firmly into the _ _off__ position. So he'd done the only thing he could think to do at the time; leave, panic, then at the first red light, whip out his cell phone and send a prompt apology to Craig.

Of course, Craig had never responded, and when Tweek arrived home he was slammed with a massive anxiety attack, the kind where he couldn't breathe or move his limbs and his chest hurt so bad that he was sure he was having a heart attack and was going to die and OH JESUS! It was about 4:00 in the morning, after the nightly gnome visit, before he had finally taken two Valiums along with his dose of Restoril and all his other required medications. All chased down with a nice cup of coffee, of course.

He'd had a fitful sleep and had woken covered in sweat, his clothes plastered to his body. He'd managed to put on some new clothes, make a pot of coffee, and turn on some music before collapsing back into bed. Actually, he didn't know if he'd really done all that or not.

He was incredibly high.

From under his bed the dust bunnies reminded him that he still had homework to do, and the miniature giraffe in the corner told them to shut the hell up and stop eating all the pudding.

Dimly, Tweek thought he heard the front door slam.

__'Oh Jesus, trolls have invaded again...'__  was his last thought before he slipped into sleep again.

* * *

"Hello Craig, it's nice to see you," Mr. Tweak opened the door for the boy, letting him in, "did you come over to see our son?"

"Yeah...he's not really expecting me, but I saw his car in the driveway, so..."

"He's just in his room, dear," Mrs. Tweak poked her head in, smiling kindly, "would you like a cup of coffee? It'll warm you up from being out in the cold."

"Uh...no thanks..." Craig muttered awkwardly. He glanced past the kitchen entryway and noticed they had at least five coffee pots, three French presses, and at least one espresso machine.

"Are you sure, Craig?" Mr. Tweak asked seriously, placing his palm flat underneath his own mug of coffee to illustrate its stellar qualities, "there's nothing quite like a nice Colombian roast to ward off the gloomy chill of a rainy day. Like curling up in your favorite blanket or reading a book by the fire, our coffee is sure to bring you that comfy, cozy feeling all over."

"...I'm gonna go talk to Tweek, and then maybe I'll have some coffee."

"All right, dear," Mrs. Tweak nodded toward Tweek's room, "you go do that, and I'll start a nice pot of Cinnamon Roast."

"...thanks."

Craig shuffled past them as they began speaking to each other, each in their soft, dulcet tones. Tweek's parents had such smooth voices. Pretty, even. Craig couldn't help but wonder if Tweek was adopted or something, with his quivering voice and wild blonde hair and myriad of mental issues.

He slowly pushed open Tweek's bedroom door, not bothering to knock. The room smelled of, no surprise, coffee. Coffee and fresh linen. It was dark but for the flickering blue lights of Tweek's iPod dock, its music barely audible.

__Every night I hope and pray_ _

__A dream lover will come my way_ _

Craig pursed his lips. More of those old songs, tunes he'd heard in movies but never considered actually listening to for recreation. He turned his gaze toward Tweek, who lay on the bed, unnaturally still. His cell phone was clutched in one long-fingered hand.

"Tweek?" Craig asked softly. He stood in front of the bed, looking down at the blonde boy. Tweek's eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Craig, dazed.

"Nngh?"

"Dude, you look totally drugged. Did you OD on opium or something?"

Tweek pushed himself up slightly, resting on his elbows as his half-lidded eyes took Craig in.

"Valium...and other stuff. For my...uh..." he closed his eyes tightly, trying to find the words, "...uh...my...problems."

"It's not good to take too much medicine. It'll fuck you up."

"Not much more to fuck up here..." he bobbed his head in reference to himself. Craig studied him for a few more moments before sitting on the bed.

"I got your text last night. ...you didn't do anything wrong, so don't be sorry. And I'll still drive you to school and shit. You're gonna need it if you plan on being this high tomorrow, too."

"Are you real?" Tweek narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Craig smirked. There was no telling what kind of hallucinations Tweek experienced on a regular basis, high or completely sober.

"Probably."

He reached out a tentative hand and touched Tweek's hair. It reminded him of cotton candy, light and fluffy.

__I want a dream lover so I don't have to dream alone._ _

"How did you find out you were gay, Tweek? You never told me."

"Mnh..." Tweek closed his weary eyes as Craig's hand travelled from his hair, to his cheek and then his neck, "...never really that interested in girls...I only noticed...how hot guys were...like...you..."

"Yeah?" Craig asked with a smile, "you think I'm hot?"

"Jesus, man...everyone thinks you're hot," his drug-dulled voice regained its usual squeaky edge for just a moment.

"You're going to make me so full of myself," Craig said and lowered his face closer to Tweek's, until the tips of their noses touched.

"Nngh...I kinda thought you were...already..." Tweek whispered back, his lips brushing against Craig's as he spoke. His lips were chapped from constant biting and dry from tons of medication, but as Craig pushed forward to close the distance, he couldn't help but think they were delicious. Tweek didn't respond for a minute, probably too drugged to realize what was going on, before slowly kissing Craig back. His cell phone slid out of his fingers and onto the floor, and his hands wound around Craig, weakly trying to pull him closer.

He crawled into bed beside Tweek, half-laying on the blonde as they kissed. Tweek dragged his hands up and down Craig's back and Craig brought a knee forward to rest between Tweek's legs.

"Mmph..." Tweek released a low moan into Craig's mouth, their lips and tongues fighting a wet, lazy battle. Tweek's mouth tasted of coffee and cough syrup, and his body was hot against Craig's. Craig's hand wandered up Tweek's poorly-buttoned shirt, over the smooth skin stretched tight against his bones.

"I shouldn't have kicked you out last night," Craig murmured as he broke the kiss, bringing his lips to Tweek's thin neck, "you didn't do anything wrong..."

"Guh...aah..." was all Tweek could managed to say in response, his eyes closed in pleasure. Craig chuckled and breathed heavily in Tweek's ear.

"I think I want to fuck you, Tweek."

"Oh, Jesus..." Tweek groaned. It seemed like the appropriate response at the time. His head was high in the clouds, his body sluggish and warm.

"Don't worry. You're way too drugged. I'm not a rapist," he nibbled lazily on Tweek's neck.

"Ghh...mmh...aah..."

Craig pulled away from Tweek, pleased with the blonde's flushed and hazy expression.

"Remember, I'll drive you to school tomorrow. So don't freak."

"Aah..nngh...Crr...aah? ..."

"You are soooo high," Craig smirked and kissed him one last time before heading out of Tweek's room.

Tweek stared at the doorway, his body heavy, stuck in place.

He bit his lip and it tasted like cinnamon.

* * *

"Gah! Oh Jesus! Come on!" Tweek screeched as he tried to shove his foot through his pants leg. His trousers didn't want to cooperate, and Tweek ended up falling flat on the floor. For the third time that morning.

He was usually right on time for school every day. Since he rarely slept all night, there wasn't much more to do besides get ready for school and get there as soon as it opened. Besides, he enjoyed the peace of the mornings, the dewy lull before classes started. He liked to sit in the vacant library and write or listen to music.

But his drugged state had lasted much longer than anticipated, and when he finally slid out of bed, the clock told him he should have been ready by now.

"Guh..." he stood again and finally succeeded in putting on his black denim pants. He shoved on a pair of boots and tried to button his shirt. He'd been buttoning them incorrectly for so long that a missed button or two wasn't much of a concern to him.

He grabbed his messenger bag and flew out the door to the kitchen, hurrying to fill his thermos before he left. He couldn't last the day without coffee, he just couldn't. Especially not after what had happened Saturday night. Craig was probably still pissed off at him. Tweek was glad he hadn't taken a second dose of his sleep-aid; he was sure Craig wouldn't be driving him to school this morning.

In a drug-induced reverie, Tweek had imagined Craig coming into his room, running his hot hands up and down Tweek's body, kissing his cheeks and lips and neck and whispering low words in that congested voice of his, the voice Tweek knew wasn't conventionally attractive but thought was incredibly sexy anyway.

It had been pretty much the best hallucination he'd ever had, and he'd had a whole bunch.

He plugged the thermos with its rubber cap and darted toward the door, swinging it open only to come face-to-face with Craig, his hand lifted to ring the doorbell.

"GAH! OH JESUS CHRIST!" he screamed, nearly dropping his thermos.

"Hey Tweek," Craig raised his eyebrows and lowered his hand, stuffing it back into his pocket, "...I'm ready to drive you to school."

"AGH! I t-thought for sure you weren't -GAH!- coming!"

"I told you I would, didn't I?" he answered flatly, "gimme your keys. Come on, it's freezing out here."

"Uh...I...guh...ack...GAH!" Tweek shoved his free hand into his bag and dangled his keys in front of Craig, who promptly took them. Tweek almost tripped again as they headed toward the car.

The trip to school was another long, silent one. Tweek held his thermos gingerly in trembling hands, taking a sip every now and then. Craig cleared his throat as they passed the school zone sign.

"Did you know that Kenny is stalking you?"

"WHAT? Oh, Jesus! Why?"

"I dunno. He does it to everyone, I guess. Stan told me that Kenny saw your car at my house for a long time last week."

"Ngh! W-well maybe that means he's actually stalking  _ _you?__ It was your house, man!"

"He knows not to mess with me. He probably wants to screw you, you know Kenny's a colossal whore."

"Oh Jesus! He is? Guh, n-no way, he probably wants to screw  _ _you__!"

"Why, because I'm so hot?"

"YES!" Tweek immediately slapped his hands over his mouth, his thermos held tight between his knees, "Oh Jesus!" he mumbled between his fingers. Craig just smiled. He pulled into the school's lot and parked the car, removing the keys and stuffing them into the side pocket of Tweek's bag.

"I already know that you think I'm hot," he said calmly, looking at the shaking boy in the seat beside him.

"Oh God! You can read my mind! Oh Jesus Christ! Did the government send you! Does your hat hold a mind-reading device?"

"No. I went to your house yesterday and you were totally drugged and you told me you think I'm hot. You don't remember?"

"Guh! Nngh...I th-thought it was all a trip from the meds!"

"It happened. I apologized for kicking you out. So...we're cool."

Craig reached over to fiddle with one of the mismatched buttons on Tweek's shirt before sliding his hand down Tweek's thigh.

"Ghh-...aah..." Tweek licked his lips before nibbling on them, watching Craig's hand with worry and pleasure, "S-so we like...we made out and everything?"

"Not everything. I'm saving that for later."

Craig gave Tweek's thigh a squeeze before pushing the door open and stepping out of the car.

"You coming or what?"

"GAH!"

* * *

"Tweek, what's wrong? You're really qu...really quiwaaai...r-really quiet," Jimmy tilted his head, watching as Tweek struggled to remember what he was supposed to be writing an essay on.

"Nngh...y-yeah, I know. I'm just like...really preoccupied, man."

"With what? You know you can talk to me, very much."

Tweek smiled a little. Jimmy could be an ass sometimes, but his heart was usually in the right place. Unlike Tweek, he and Timmy were two of the most popular kids in school. Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman still liked to hang out with Timmy when they could, while Jimmy would sometimes gravitate toward Craig's group.

"I just...y'know, all this applying for college stuff, it's totally freaking me out! Too much pressure!"

Well, it was half true.

"Oh guh-guh-God. I know what you mean. That's why I'm having a party this we-weekend. S-stress release. The whole school's invited! Y-you are too, of cuh-course."

"A party? Oh Jesus! I dunno, I -NGH!- don't do that great around big crowds and loud noises!"

"Y-you don't have to go," Jimmy stated obviously, beginning to hobble away, "it'll just be a really nice break fr-from all the work. N-no pressure."

Tweek closed his eyes tightly and nibbled on the end of his mechanical pencil.

It was a lot of pressure.  


	5. The Question

Another lonely night at Harbucks, a dead evening in their tiny town. Their brightly lit box shielded them from the dark and chill of the outside world, where the snow built up thick on the awnings and windowpanes.

Craig stretched out in a chair, his legs propped on one of the circular tables in the lobby. With a deft movement of his thumb, he scrolled through the music choices of Tweek's iPod, crinkling his nose in distaste. Over the click of the wheel, he could hear the tap-tap-tapping of Tweek's pencil from where the blonde stood at the counter, his face buried in his notes.

"Don't you have anything normal, Tweek?" he sighed and moved his legs, planting his feet flat on the floor.

"Gah! Like how do you mean?"

"Like music that's not ancient."

Tweek bit the side of his lip and flicked his eyes upwards for a moment, as if checking on his brain to make sure it was working properly.

"Guh...um...I have some My Chemical Romance..."

"Jesus Christ, Tweek."

"Ack! And uh...Ludo..."

"...better."

"Uh...and some Britney Spears?"

Craig just shut his eyes and put a hand to his forehead, not even dignifying that with a response. Tweek sensed Craig's disapproval and raised his hands in defense.

"Gah! It's old stuff, back when she was America's sweetheart! And it's good dancing music!"

"Yeah right. Like you dance."

"I dance all the time!" Tweek argued. Craig turned toward him, eyebrows raised. There was something very...alluring about the thought of Tweek dancing. Alone, in his room at night, wearing only his ill-fitting boxers, fragile body snaking to the rhythm of some old, forgotten music.

"Oh yeah?" Craig set the iPod on the table and slid his chair back, its shuffling screech echoing throughout the quiet building, "let me see you dance, then."

"What?" Tweek accidentally snapped his pencil in two between his fingers, staring at Craig in horror, "Gah! No way, man! I can't dance in front of people! That is _ _way__ too much pressure!"

"No one's here," Craig said lowly, rounding the counter and approaching him, "just me."

"Ah! But y-you're a person too!" Tweek backed up as Craig stalked slowly toward him, "pressure!"

"Jimmy told me he invited you to his party this weekend. You aren't gonna dance there either?"

"No way, man! The whole school's gonna be there! Oh god!"

"So you're not even gonna go to the party" he asked flatly, backing Tweek into a corner. Tweek's hazel eyes darted around like a wild animal's.

"I...I dunno! I -gah- have a lot of stuff to do, and-"

Craig leaned forward and kissed the protests off of Tweek's lips. Tweek tasted like the hazelnut coffee he'd downed only ten minutes earlier. The blonde sunk into the kiss and, hesitantly, his hands grasped the front of Craig's apron.

Their lips were locked together for several long seconds; theirs hearts pounding and mouths warring with one another. Tweek gave a low groan as their tongues met, wet and hot. Craig's hand slid between Tweek's frazzled locks, gently gripping his sunshine-bright hair.

"I'd like it if you came to the party, Tweek," Craig said huskily after they broke apart, staring at each other and panting. His voice was still flat, monotonous, but his eyes were honest, "and I'd like to see you dance."

Tweek groaned softly to himself, his fingers still twisted into the fabric of Craig's apron.

"Craig...I...guh...I...really...need to know..."

"Yes, Tweek?" Craig asked, leaning in close again. Tweek flushed a bright red and closed his eyes tightly, willing the words past his reddened lips.

"Nngh...I just...I'm...confused...are...are we a couple now?"

Craig looked back at Tweek with furrowed brows. Tweek was tall; he actually had an inch or two on Craig, but the blonde quailed underneath his gaze, setting their eyesight level. He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it once he realized he didn't know the answer.

The bell above the door clanged, causing Craig to jolt slightly and Tweek to jump nearly four feet into the air.

"SWEET JESUS WHAT IS IT?" he screeched, huddling in the corner, "Robbers? Terrorists? Robber terrorists?"

Kenny McCormick let the doors fall back into place and proudly slapped a five dollar bill on the counter, a smile on his mischievous face.

"You two done making out? If so, I'll take one coconut-mocha frappuchino."

Craig backed away from Tweek and looked disdainfully at the money, then at Kenny's too-happy expression.

"We don't have coconut."

"I  _ _know__ that's a lie. I used to work here before Tweek nearly burned my hands off. The coconut is in the little freezer across from the bakery display."

"We don't have a freezer."

"Yes you do, fucker! It's right across from me!"

Craig dolefully turned to look at the freezer, then back at Kenny.

"Oh."

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Craig reluctantly took Kenny's money and placed his order.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You and Tweek were done making out, right? So I didn't interrupt anything!" Kenny indignantly pocketed his change.

"I was just surprised, I didn't know you had money."

"You're a cocksucker, Craig."

"At least I'm not a stalker. Stan told me you've been watching my house. What the hell, Kenny."

"Aren't you supposed to be making my drink?"

Craig sighed and put a palm to his face, running his fingers down to his chin. He turned and looked at Tweek, who had finally righted himself and was brushing loose dust off his apron.

"Tweek, make a coconut-mocha frappuchino while I have a discussion with Kenny."

Kenny gave a hesitant look past Craig.

"...Tweek's going to make my frappuchino...? Listen, I really don't have much money, so I can't afford to have this five-dollar drink suck. No offense, Tweek..."

"Ack! None taken! Oh Jesus!" Tweek grabbed a plastic cup and set to work in the background, quivering the entire time.

"Tweek knows coffee," Craig assured the still-unsure Kenny, "he can't do much, but he can make coffee. As long as there are less than two customers in the store. And as long as he doesn't have to use the second blender from the wall. It scares him."

"OH GOD!" Tweek screeched from behind Craig, "it's the blades, man! Way too sharp!"

"Oh," Kenny shrugged.

"Tell me why you're stalking me."

"Who said I was stalking you?"

Craig closed his eyes and breathed slowly, willing himself patience. Tweek stumbled around behind him, cursing the evil blender and its evil sharp blades of evil. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Kenny waiting for an answer, his head tilted to the side.

"Stan told me."

"I've been watching Stan too," he shrugged offhandedly.

"That doesn't...Kenny, that's not something to be proud of. Why are you stalking people?"

"Don't think of it as stalking. Think of it as...helping to improve your lives."

"...that doesn't make sense. Normally being stalked is something that people want to avoid. How is this helping improve our lives?"

"You have to be patient, Craig," Kenny shrugged. Tweek's long, trembling arm reached past Craig to hand Kenny his over-priced beverage. Kenny accepted gratefully and took the straw into his mouth, trying to look as innocent as possible, "so?" he asked in between sips, "you guys are coming to Jimmy's party this weekend, right?"

"I am. Tweek doesn't want to," Craig responded in accusation. Tweek yelped and stuttered helplessly, looking back and forth between Craig and Kenny.

"B-but...I mean...I...I kind of want to! But...just...the pressure, man! Oh god! The pressure!"

"It'll be fuuuun," Kenny grinned, his voice sing-song, "I'm gonna get totally hammered, man."

"Good for you. Now go away, we're closed...and stop stalking me!" he added as Kenny trotted carelessly through the door, the bell clanging again behind him.

Craig stared at Kenny's small, departing frame before looking over at Tweek, who stared back at him. There was something strange in his eyes. A longing, a desperation to understand.

"Uh...Tweek, can you lock up by yourself?"

"Gah! Wh-what? Oh Jesus, why!"

"I...uh..." Craig untied his apron and searched for an excuse, "I need to change Swirls' litter pan. She gets sad if it's not clean."

Tweek relaxed slightly, the panic on his face replaced by an expression of anxious hopelessness.

"Gah...okay. Will...uh...will you still drive me to school tomorrow? That medicine..."

"Yeah, of course. See you tomorrow..." he shuffled outside and made a brisk beeline for his house, hands stuffed in the pocket of his coat to warm them.

Honestly, he felt guilty. Tweek had such a soft spot for that little guinea pig, he'd do anything to make her happy. Craig thought it was adorable. Adorable and heartwarming. That's the kind of person he wanted to be with.

So why not answer Tweek's question? He didn't know the answer himself. Craig had never really had a boyfriend before; he and Stan couldn't be considered as anything more than fuck-buddies. And not even that since he had royally pissed Stan off.

He liked Tweek. He admitted that to himself. He had relearned who Tweek was, saw the beauty in him he hadn't seen before. Tweek was adorable, weirdly sexy. Tweek made him happy, gave him something to look forward to.

Usually.

And then there were times where Tweek wasn't adorable _or_ sexy, he was just some messed up kid whose thin skin stretched too tight against his brittle bones. Whose eyes were sunken in too deep, darkened by insomnia and anxiety and a thousand little things he saw that the world didn't. There were times when Tweek pissed him off with his incessant twitching and paranoia, times when he felt like striking Tweek just to shut him up, to keep him still.

He could either love Tweek, or hate Tweek, and he was pretty sure boyfriends weren't supposed to feel like that.

* * *

"Tweek, you're going to that goddamn party whether you like it or not," Stan said pointedly from across the cafeteria table, his fork tilted in Tweek's direction.

"Seriously, dude," Kyle added, stealing a fry from Stan's tray, "you need this. You've gotta get out more often."

"Gah...I just...I don't know...pre-"

"Pressure," Craig dully finished the word, looking sideways at Tweek, "everyone wants you to go. I don't see what the big deal is."

Tweek lowered his head. Under the table, he reached a cautious hand out to grasp hold of Craig's. Surprised, Craig looked at him with eyes wide. Tweek squeezed his hand nervously and looked back at him.

"Everyone...really wants me to go?" he asked carefully. Craig hesitated, then nodded, squeezing back.

"Everyone really wants you to go."

"Nngh...I...okay then..."

"Killer! It'll be great, dude!" Kyle began to grin, but the grin quickly turned into a grimace as Cartman plopped down beside him.

"Well, you gahs," Cartman sighed heavily, "I suppose you notice that I'm back here with you fags again."

"Yeah, fatass," Kyle snapped, "Because no one else wanted to be your friend."

"Wrong again, Kahl," Cartman sniffed, "Tons of people wanted to be my friend, they just happened to suck even worse than all of you."

"You really are God's gift to man, aren't you Cartman?" Craig asked tonelessly. Under the table, the pad of his thumb ran gently over Tweek's bony knuckles. He could feel Tweek relax against him, the twitching and tics subsiding.

"Yes," Cartman said, his gaze shifting toward Tweek, "what about you? We can ditch all these fags and you and Kenny can be my knew best friends. Kenny's poor, but he gets good drugs, and you're kind of a freak, but I'm sure you have a ton of awesome drugs too. Think about it, Tweek. We can sell your medicine on the black market and buy enough coffee to drown a Jewish ghetto..."

"Gah! No way! I -oh jesus- need that medicine!"

"The free coffee does not interest you?" Cartman asked, brow raised.

"He gets all the free coffee he wants at work, r-tard!" Kyle snapped.

"AY! Don't you call me that, you dirty Jew!"

"Oh Jesus Christ, not this shit again!" Stan groaned. "Come on, you guys, can't we just eat in peace for once!"

"It'll never happen as long as a Jew is here, Stan!"

"Goddammit, Cartman!"

As they bickered amongst themselves, absorbed in their own little dysfunctional friendships, Tweek gazed at Craig, a calm smile under his tired eyes.

Craig could either love Tweek or hate him. And right now he loved him.


	6. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Kind of!

Tweek's room was in shambles. All his drawers were open, their contents spilling to the floor. The bed, the chair, the desk, all strewn with discarded clothing. There, among the chaos, he stood staring, at himself in the mirror.

And for the fifteenth time that evening, he let out a brief curse and pulled off his clothes again.

"Gah! Nothing's good enough! Why can't I find anything to wear? Oh sweet Jesus, help me!"

But Jesus must have had better things to do, because Tweek was still very much alone in his disaster zone of a bedroom. His crazed eyes scanned the area, stopping to rest on the maroon dress shirt that lay draped across his keyboard. Trembling as ever, he plucked it up and slipped it on, beginning the flawed and awkward chore of buttoning it up.

Tweek liked dress shirts, even though he could never button them properly. He liked nice, crisp clothing. Clothes that made him look presentable. Clothes he hoped would show people that he  _ _could__  keep it together, wasn't crazy, wasn't a threat. He'd never been comfortable with throwing on a simple undershirt and jacket and striding out of the house like the rest of the guys.

Never comfortable. But then again, when was he ever?

He tugged on a pair of brown skinny jeans and a some nice boots he'd bought for just the occasion.

More than anything, he thought as he shrugged on a long pea coat, he was trying to look nice for Craig. They'd hung out and kissed and held hands like couples did, but Tweek wasn't stupid. He knew they weren't a couple yet. Not until Craig said they were.

He wrapped his favorite green scarf around his neck and looked in the mirror once again. He'd made an effort to smooth his hair down and it seemed to be obeying for now, but there was no telling when he'd mess it up again by tugging on it. Overall, he looked nice enough; he was rather proud of himself.

He glanced at his desk, where sat a single bamboo shoot in a vase of small rocks and water. It was a crooked little thing, never able to stand up straight, and not much in the way of company, but it was all he could manage to take care of. Giving one of its stiff leaves a fond brush, he smiled nervously.

"Wish me luck."

Jimmy's house wasn't far from Tweek's, only a couple blocks. Therefore, Tweek had decided to forgo the car and walk there, heedless of the light snowfall. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized coat, he began heading down the street, his mind buzzing the entire time.

What would happen at this party? The last party he had gone to had started with Cartman and Kenny making a tornado in a bottle, and ended with half the city in ruins and kids missing for days. Tweek himself had ended up far outside of town, stuck in a tree for three freezing days. By the time his parents had finally found him, he'd made the firm decision that he wouldn't be going to any more parties.

But it hadn't mattered anyway, because he was never invited again.

He kicked the snow a little, frowning. It really wasn't fair. Why was  _ _he__  the outcast? Why was he so shunned and cast aside, when sociopaths like Cartman managed to have so many friends?

He bit his lip, adding a new pain to the stinging cold, and sighed hopefully. Maybe this night would be the start of a better life.

He heard the party before he saw it. Music thrummed from the house, the bass lines so low and loud that their tapping vibrations echoed even outside.

__Syncopated basslines,__  Tweek mentally noted as he approached. He stood outside on the sidewalk, amidst the labyrinth of cars parked in the driveway and the side of the road. Snowflakes gathered on the heavy shelf of his scarf, vivid white against green before melting into the warmth of his body.

Somewhere in that house was a stoic, dark-eyed boy who confused him beyond all reason. A flat-voiced young man who refused to answer his questions, who kept him walking a tightline of uncertainty and hope, fifty feet off the ground. The same boy who made his heart ache in both a good way and bad.

He took a deep breath and walked up the porch stairs, into the yellow light streaming out from the living room.

"Well well welly well well," Cartman looked up at Tweek as he cautiously entered, a red plastic cup held in one chubby hand, "look who crawled out of his hole and made it into the outside world. Partying isn't too much pressure for you, is it?"

Tweek gave an idle glare back, doing his level best to stick up for himself.

"No, partying isn't too much -gah!- pressure!"

"Leave him alone, Cartman!" Kyle walked up, followed by a very drunk and very lovesick Stan.

"Kahl," Cartman looked at the redhead innocently, "I'm just making sure Tweek here isn't going to freak out on us. You know how cocaine addicts are."

"Gah! What? I'm not on cocaine, man!" Tweek's eyes widened in horror. He had enough problems without people thinking he was a crackhead. Regardless, Cartman continued, quite seriously.

"When he can't get his fix, he'll grab a gun and just start blowing our heads off!"

"Jesus Christ!"

"Tweek, relax!" Kyle grabbed Tweek's arm and began leading him away from Cartman, "you know how that fatass is, he just wants to get a rise out of you!"

Cartman snorted and shouted out over the music and conversation.

"Not as much as Stan wants to get a rise out of  _ _you__ , Kahl!"

Kyle frowned and led Tweek and his drunk friend into the kitchen, which was cluttered with cheap snacks and alcohol.

"Tweek, don't listen to him," he said sternly, trying to draw himself up to his full height so he could look in Tweek's eyes. Unfortunately he was a bit too short for the task, though Tweek still got the full effect and cowed instantly, "you're here to have fun, not listen to that asshole."

"Yeah!" Stan chimed in, head bobbing in agreement, "Kyle's...Kyle's sooo right! Oh my god, he's so smart, Tweek. You should listen to him, forever."

"Guh...ack...forever?!"

"Forever!" Stan raised his cup into the air victoriously. Kyle just groaned.

"Just go have fun, okay Tweek? Let's find Craig, I think he went outside to smoke."

Tweek nodded a bit, having calmed at the mention of Craig. The three bumped and weaved through crowds of people; on the way outside Tweek received a pleased smile from Jimmy and a wink from Kenny, whose hand was sneaking up the front of Bebe's shirt. Tweek heard a loud slap from behind him as he walked through the door.

Craig looked up from his cigarette as the trio stepped out onto the back porch. His eyes wandered from Kyle's flustered expression to Tweek's nice clothes and smooth hair, and then finally to Stan, who swayed on his feet.

"Hi," he said simply.

"Craig," Kyle sighed and gently pushed Tweek toward him, "we need to watch out for Tweek, Cartman's being an ass to him."

"Oh."

"What does that mean, 'oh'?" Kyle snapped, frustrated, "are you gonna help watch out for him or not?"

Tweek fidgeted, Craig gave a simple nod, and Stan gazed lovingly at Kyle, mouthing  _ _'He's so cute when he's angry...'__

"Gah! C...Cartman doesn't really scare me! I mean...he's never had a problem with me...as far as I know! Ah!"

"He doesn't  _ _have__  to have a problem with you, Tweek," Kyle sighed and shook his head, "listen, I'm gonna go inside and make Stan sit down before he hurts himself," he turned a glare Craig's way, "watch out for Tweek."

With that, he grabbed Stan's arm and pulled him back inside.

Tweek turned to Craig, fiddling with the clasps of his pea coat.

"Nngh...Stan loves Kyle a lot, huh?"

"Tweek, I want to relax tonight. Relaxing does not include discussing those two jerks."

"Oh...guh...okay. Um...s-so..."

Craig flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and stomped on it with the toe of his boot. He looked to Tweek, the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"You look really nice."

A shiver went through Tweek's body and he felt his cheeks become warm. Instinctively, he looked down and shuffled his feet, unable to contain his grin. Craig hadn't accepted them as a couple yet, but Tweek felt that this was a pretty good step in the right direction.

"Th...thanks...um...so...what're we supposed to do -gah!- here?"

"It's just a party," Craig said, the curve of his eyebrows shadowing his already dark eyes, "we don't have to do anything."

"Gah! Oh! ...okay!"

"Relax, Tweek," Craig sighed and slid an arm around his shoulders, "tonight is just a night for relaxing."

Craig led Tweek away from the din of the party, where inside someone had clearly just broken something both very fragile and very expensive. He took the blonde to the edge of the yard, to a small perimeter of rocks arranged carefully around a failing flowerbed.

"Jimmy's mom sucks at gardening," Craig grunted, nodding his head toward the ugly withering flowers as they sat on the rocks, "these things always look like this, even in the summer."

"I...guh...like them!" Tweek managed to sputter, wringing his hands together in anxiety. Craig gave him a long look before taking his hands and holding them still.

"Why."

"Ack! Why do I like them?"

Craig just gave a small nod and Tweek bit his already tortured lips for the hundredth time that day.

"I...guh...I have a plant at home that really sucks! I mean, -nngh-, seriously, it looks awful! But...gah...I guess I love it! Or...or something?"

"Or something is right. How can you love a plant?"

"Nngh...w-well...maybe love isn't the right term...gah...it's hard to...to explain..."

"You're good at explaining things, once you calm the hell down and think about it hard enough," Craig gave Tweek's hands a warm squeeze, "so explain it to me."

The blonde breathed in deeply and shut his eyes, body overcome with the warmth radiating from Craig's hands. In the winter-chapped skin and the sturdy joints of Craig's fingers, Tweek found comfort.

"Mnh...k-kay...uh...it's like...there's this thing that needs you to survive...I mean, if I stopped watering my plant, it'd die, right? Gah! So, it needs you to survive...and y-you can either tend to it or...walk away, I guess. But you can't just walk away from -nngh- something that could never hurt anyone, that's just trying to live...I mean, it's not really a pretty plant because part of it rotted off, and it can never stand up straight, and it's just really awkward-looking overall...but I like taking care of it and making sure it's okay. And I guess I feel like it appreciates me for it...even though plants can't really think. Uh...I guess that doesn't make a lot of sense."

Craig smiled at Tweek, noting a cease in the other boy's frantic tics. He looked calm in the harsh light glaring from the open door across the yard, his eyes shut serenely and his body relaxed. Craig stroked the soft skin of Tweek's hands, leaned in to breathe in the scent of the boy.

Tweek's eyes snapped open and all of a sudden he began quivering again.

"Gah! Or  _ _can__  they think! Oh Jesus! Like...like what's that movie? Gah!  _ _The Happening?__  Is that it? OH JESUS! The plants, man! They're out to kill us! There's nothing we can do to stop them!"

"Tweek,  _ _Tweek__!" Craig barked sternly, grabbing hold of Tweek's shoulders, "that's just a movie! A really, really retarded movie!"

"Oh...guh...y-yeah...okay! Sorry!"

"So, are you going to dance?"

"Gah! Jesus Christ! What?"

"What? I just asked if you were going to dance. Didn't we have this discussion before?"

"Ah! Yeah..." Tweek fidgeted, "but I told you, dancing in front of people is too much pressure!"

"Just me, then," Craig stood and Tweek shot up like a rocket after him. Craig took Tweek by the scarf and dragged him over to the side yard, in the dark alley between the fence and the house. The music continued to blare through the open windows and doors.

"Weird place to dance," Tweek commented softly.

"It's either this or inside."

"Gah! Here's fine!"

Craig couldn't see much in the dim light, but with his hands on Tweek's sides he could feel the blonde moving in the darkness. Not what he would consider dancing, more like swaying.

Tweek looked good in the darkness, like he belonged in it. The light caught on his cheekbones, his smooth skin, the wild glint in his eyes. Suddenly his hollowed cheeks weren't too sunken, the circles under his eyes were just shadows cast by elegant brows.

Craig leaned in to kiss Tweek, murmuring.

"This isn't dancing..."

"Guh...wh...what is it, then?" Tweek mewled, catching Craig's lips again.

"Moving."

"I thought that's what dancing was?"

"You're a smartass," Craig smirked and reached down to pinch Tweek's rear. The blonde yelped and jumped, and though it was too dark to tell, he knew Tweek was blushing furiously.

"I've been -nngh- hanging out with you too much."

"Double smartass," Craig gave him another pinch. This time Tweek just grinned and wrapped his arms around Craig, continuing to sway in time with the music.

"Do you think Kyle and Stan will ever get together?" Tweek mumbled, his lips against Craig's shoulder.

"Dunno. I think Kyle's straight."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Craig paused, then added, "or asexual. Probably asexual."

"Jesus! He reproduces by budding?"

"...yes."

"Oh god! Is it because he's Jewish!"

"...yes, Tweek. It's because he's Jewish."

"So Cartman was right..." Tweek muttered to himself. Craig smirked and shook his head. Tweek wasn't stupid, but he was definitely crazy. It was kind of hot.

They continued to sway against each other, feet crunching in the snow and dead grass. The wind picked up and flurries danced around them, driving the chill into their bones.

"Come on," Craig said simply, leading Tweek by the hand back into the house, where dozens of bodies created a heat that not even the outside temperature could dispel. He snatched a cup of what he knew to be heavily spiked punch from a table and offered it to Tweek.

"I can't," the tall blonde shook his head wildly, holding up his palms, "I...my medicine. It's -gah!- too dangerous for me to drink with all the stuff I take!"

"Jesus," Craig took the cup for himself and had a sip, "what all are you on?"

"Guh...everything, it feels like."

Craig pursed his lips slightly, then immediately quit because he always thought of it as a stereotypically gay thing to do and he didn't want to be 'that guy'.

"Well..." was all he got out before Jimmy ambled up to them.

"H-hi, guys. I sure hope you're enjoying the p-p-pa-party."

Craig shrugged a little and Tweek nodded almost violently.

"Gr-great!" Jimmy grinned, "W-well, C-Clyde brought his Ouija Board, so us and some of the other fellas were gonna see if we could conjure some sp-spii-spirits. Wanna join?"

"Clyde," Craig groaned as he caught sight of the brown-haired boy over his shoulder, "what have I said about you and that stupid toy?"

"It's not a toy!" Clyde responded in horror, clutching the box close to his chest, "don't say that! It'll get pissed off at you."

"Guh! Ack!" Tweek groaned and wringed his hands together nervously, "I don't think we should do this!"

"Oh come on, Tweek," Jimmy said dismissively, "what could  _ _p-possibly__  go wr-wrong?"

Dawn was almost upon them by the time they had managed to send the demon back to hell, banish the dark soul possessing Kyle, and unstick Jimmy from the ceiling. By the time it was over, they were all too exhausted to clean up the blood from when Kenny had inexplicably exploded. Instead, the remaining guests wearily made their way home.

Craig and Tweek trod down the sidewalk in a daze. The tips of Tweek's locks were blackened and singed, and Craig was sporting three impressive scratches below his left eye.

"...I told them it was a bad...nngh...idea..."

"You did," Craig nodded in agreement. He stumbled a little and Tweek held him upright. Craig wasn't used to so much activity without a good amount of sleep, but Tweek was. So, for once, he was the lucid one.

They passed Butters, who was hanging unconscious in a tree, as the sun rose and cast pink and orange light on the fresh snow. They limped to Tweek's house, and in an unspoken agreement that Craig would be staying there, they both made their way up to Tweek's room.

Without a single word, they snuggled under Tweek's barely-used bed covers. Craig's last waking action was to wrap his arms around Tweek, and then he was out like a light, snoring gently.

Tweek allowed himself a smile and watched Craig for a while before, in a rare and welcome occurrence, he too drifted off to sleep.


	7. The Hero

Much to Craig's surprise, it was he who woke before Tweek. His eyes opened slowly to the warm glow of the afternoon sun filtering in through the slats of the window. Beside him, Tweek lay so far curled into himself that his body nearly formed a circle. Even in his sleep, he twitched and mumbled, and it reminded Craig of a dog dreaming of chasing rabbits.

He sat slowly as not to disturb Tweek. The kid probably needed all the sleep he could get. He lifted himself off the bed and gazed evenly around the bedroom. It looked like a mini tornado had swept through the place. Clothes were scattered everywhere, the desk chair was on its side, and, for some reason, several pairs of underwear were duct-taped to the ceiling.

He nudged aside a couple of shirts with the toe of his shoe before noticing the keyboard, its panel covered in loose sheet music. Craig raised an eyebrow. He'd never pegged Tweek for a musician. But now that he looked, the signs were there; a violin case sat propped in the corner, and near the doorway were what could only be a pair of bongos.

"Guh...sorry about my room..." Craig turned as Tweek's voice squeaked from behind him. The blonde was still laying on the bed, looking woozy after coming out of some much-needed sleep.

Craig just shrugged and sat beside him.

"That was some party."

"Gah! The part with the demons and ghosts, that really happened, right?"

"Yep."

"Oh," Tweek bit his lip, torn between relief that he didn't imagine the whole thing and panic that he'd been in a house full of apparitions. He looked so cute Craig couldn't resist leaning in and giving him a light kiss. Tweek smiled into it, gazing at Craig with rare calm as the boy pulled away and stood. He started idly looking through Tweek's belongings again.

"What's with all the instruments?"

"I like music?"

"I knew that. You didn't tell me you could actually  _ _make__ music."

"Uh...yeah....I'm actually hoping to be accepted to Loft Bridge University, over on the east coast...ACK! They have -nngh- a sound design major there!"

Craig nearly dropped the Stegosaurus figurine he'd been fiddling with and turned to look at Tweek.

"I applied there too."

"JESUS CHRIST! Really? OH MY GOD!" Tweek screeched, tugging wildly at his hair, "The government, man! It must be -nngh- conspiring to send us to the same place! Then they'll make us fight zombies together and someone will have to videotape it and use it as propaganda in the war and-wait, what are you applying there for?"

Craig's expression soured and he picked up the Stegosaurus again, prodding at its plastic spikes with the pad of his finger. After several moments, and several awkward grunts from Tweek, he sat the toy down and spoke.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," he warned, turning to look at Tweek, "not a single goddamn soul. If you do, so help me Tweek, I will rip out your vocal chords and feed them to Swirls."

Tweek's eyes widened in absolute terror, but still he leaned forward to hear what Craig had to say.

"Fashion," Craig sighed, a hand to his face, "I wanna major in fashion. But I don't want to hear any shit about being another stereotypical gay designer."

"Gah...if I go into sound design, I'll be a gay designer too!" Tweek offered helpfully.

"Not the same," Craig muttered, "Anyway, I don't know how good my chances are. Even if I get accepted and scrape up a couple of scholarships, I'll still have to take out loans. My family's not exactly wealthy. I might just end up going to community or something."

Tweek smiled wearily at him.

"I bet you'll be a great designer one day. Gah! W-with or without some fancy college."

Craig's heart skipped a beat in the way it had been doing lately whenever Tweek was around. The more he hung around the blonde, the less Tweek's tics and paranoid muttering bothered him; and he'd actually noticed a decrease in Tweek's frantic behavior. 

"So. I want to hear some music you composed."

"Gah! What? No way, man! _Way_  too much pressure!"

"If you do it, I'll reward you," Craig lowered his voice an octave, his eyebrows raised suggestively. A very satisfying blush spread across Tweek's face.

"W...reward me? Jesus! How?"

"Do it and you'll see."

"Gah...oh god...oh Jesus..." Tweek mumbled to himself hands fidgeting as he crossed the room and opened his laptop. Craig watched Tweek's long fingers work until finally a soft tune began to play.

Keyboard music followed by what seemed to be a synthetic sax sound, starting out high and slowly dipping into a soft, mourning melody. The influence all that old music had on Tweek was obvious; the composition had more of a big band sound than the majority of the techno-rave on the radio lately.

"Are there words to go along with it?" Craig asked in amusement, leaning back against a pillow.

"N-no..." he wrung his hands together until his fingers were red, "it's just a score...I...I've tried to write lyrics, but I'm not very good at it."

"Hm. Well, come here," he beckoned Tweek, patting the space beside him.

"Agh! Why? Are you gonna beat me up?"

"What? No. Jesus. Your reward, retard."

"Oh," Tweek nibbled on the corner of his lip and edged toward Craig. As soon as he was within range, Craig clasped his wrists and pulled Tweek down on top of him. He had forgotten how bony Tweek was; the boy seemed to be made of nothing but sharp angles. Still, his never-ending trembling was, in a way, pleasant.

Craig locked his lips with Tweek's in a passionate kiss. The blonde responded with fervor, heaving a relieved moan into Craig's mouth. The music still played, the timid sounds of a violin undercutting the slow duet between keyboard and saxophone.

Craig's hands roamed up and down Tweek's back, feeling the sharp shoulder blades underneath the crumpled dress shirt. Tweek moved against him, wholly engulfed in the kiss, and Craig spread his legs to feel Tweek's hips writhe. Even through the thick material of his pants, it felt amazing. Jolts of pleasure warmed his body, and he knew Tweek felt the same way, with the way the boy was moving and moaning.

"Mmnh..." Craig broke the kiss to nip at the soft skin of Tweek's neck, "Tweek..."

"Guh...y-yeah?" Tweek looked curiously at him with lust-hazed eyes.

"Nothing. I just like saying your name, dumbass."

Before Tweek had time to retort, Craig rolled over on top of him. His hands slid through bright blonde locks, his weight stilling the involuntary quakes of Tweek's body. The blonde reached up for another kiss and Craig obliged. His fingers found the hem of Tweek's shirt and reached under it, tracing the ridges of protruding ribs. Tweek moaned and shivered beneath him, the kiss taking on a new desperation.

Craig ended the kiss a second time to whisper in his ear.

"You're hard...I can feel it."

Tweek didn't seem to have anything comprehensible to say in return. He just groaned and shut his eyes tightly, a blush of embarrassment crossing his cheeks.

"Don't be embarrassed," Craig smirked and bit at Tweek's ear, "I am too."

Tweek managed to let out a tinny  _ _"Oh Jesus"__  and pulled off Craig's hat, running those long, nimble fingers through dark hair. Craig sat up on Tweek's hips and confidently unbuttoned the maroon dress shirt, slipping his hands over the exposed, pale chest. His skin was smooth and cool, marred only by the prominent ridges of bone, sharp angles pitifully uncovered by little or no fat or flesh. The slightness of Tweek's body saddened Craig a little, which was unusual for him. Sadness for other humans was not an emotion he felt often.

But the emotion escaped him as Tweek pressed his hips up, bringing their groins together again with another rush of pleasure. Craig gasped and Tweek moaned, and they bucked against each other hard, again and again. Finally Craig moved down, hands deftly working to remove Tweek's pants.

Tweek froze underneath him and Craig, sensing the tenseness, looked up from his task. Tweek's eyes were wide and afraid, and Craig felt a pang of guilt. Another emotion he didn't have much experience with.

"You don't want to?" he asked carefully, scrutinizing the look on Tweek's face. The blonde gulped visibly and let out a shuddering sigh.

"Guh...ah...n-no, I do! I...I really, really do..."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Craig...I...gah...Jesus...I really like you. I like you a lot. I always have. And -AUGH GOD!- I...I  _ _really__  want this to happen!" he screwed up his eyes as if accentuating his point, "a lot! But...god, Craig...I need to know if we're...you know... _together_ or not."

Craig just stared at Tweek and the boy bit his lip, slowly continuing.

"I mean...I...Craig, everything is way too much pressure...life is just so...so difficult, I feel like I'm -Jesus- barely hanging on as it is....and I dunno if I can give everything to...give myself to...to someone who doesn't -gah- care for me. So...w-where do we stand, me and you?"

Tweek's song ended with the wail of a violin and then there was silence.

Slowly, gently, Craig climbed off Tweek.

Without a word, he scooped up his hat and placed it securely back on his head. Then, without a single look back, he walked out the room and closed the door behind him.

Tweek felt a pain in his heart that even the most intense of panic attacks could not compare to. The reason he'd let it all out to Craig was because he was almost certain that Craig had feelings for him as well.

It looked like that was a mistake. A costly mistake.

There'd be no more friendship, no more playing with Swirls, no more holding hands, no arguments about music or gentle kisses or warm fingers sweeping across his freezing palms. He'd made, as his father used to say after brewing a bad batch of coffee, a "vital error".

He swallowed heavily and fastened his pants, slipped on a discarded T-shirt. It took a good three minutes of fumbling through his messenger bag for a cigarette before he realized he was out. Instead, he wrenched open a Valium bottle, taking two before washing it down with a couple mouthfuls of a cough syrup concoction he'd perfected long ago; laced with plenty of codeine, caffeine and antihistimines.

He was careful not to overdose. How pathetic would that be? Spurned by his love and so alone and hopeless that suicide was the only way out. No, he didn't want to kill himself. But sometimes he wondered if that would just be easier. Easier than dealing with life and all its pressures, its trials, and now, its heartache.

He looked in the mirror for a long time, vaguely registering the drugs taking their effect. He wished he were different so Craig could love him. If only his body would be still and his hair would lay flat. If only he could concentrate enough to stay in regular classes, gain enough weight so he didn't have to look at his skeleton every time he changed clothes. If only he could quit his addictions, get some goddamn sleep, and take control of his paranoid thoughts.

But he'd been working at all that for years with no progress.

He wondered where he'd be in the future, what he'd do. Would he have to stay in the back room of Harbucks his whole life because he was so unfit for the outside world? It felt like it. Society had no place for Tweek Tweak.

He climbed into bed, a numbness spreading throughout his body. A single choking sob escaped his lips, so pitiful he felt, but that was all. Tweek rarely cried. That was one of the few dignities he managed to hold onto, but at the same time he knew it was nothing to be proud of.

With the bitter taste of medicine in his mouth, he shut his eyes tightly and willed himself to sleep for as long as he could.

* * *

"What're you doing here?" Clyde straightened up, brows furrowed beneath his football helmet as Craig walked toward him from the bleachers, "I thought you had work after school?"

"I quit," Craig said simply, "when do you losers get out of practice? You're buying me pizza."

"I don't have any money for pizza!" Clyde snapped back.

"Then Stan can buy me pizza," he nodded as the South Park Cows' team captain trotted up.

"Fuck off, I'm not buying you anything. Why'd you quit working at Harbucks? I thought you wanted to do something useful with your life."

"Pouring mocha syrup into foamy milk isn't exactly my idea of doing something useful with my life."

"Did Tweek spill coffee on you?" Kenny asked solemnly from his bench seat on the front line.

"No."

"I haven't seen Tweek lately," Clyde remarked offhandedly, tossing the football to Stan, "he was hanging out with us for a while there but now it's like he's disappeared."

"Yeah, last time I saw him was at Jimmy's party," Stan answered, spinning the ball between his hands, "you walked him home, didn't you, Craig? I saw you guys. He was okay, wasn't he?"

"Guess so," Craig grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets, "well if none of you assholes are going to buy me pizza, I'm just going home."

Sneakers crunching through the old snow, Craig walked off, a blue-shroud blur in the distance. Clyde shrugged at Stan, who returned the gesture.

"That was weird. What d'you think's eating him, Kenny? ...Kenny?"

They looked back at the bench.

It was deserted.

* * *

Kenny McCormick was several things. He was a pervert, a slut, a druggie, someone a middle-class overprotective father would say was "from the wrong side of the tracks". Literally, in his case. He may have been all those things, but he was also a sucker for people. He liked people, liked it when they were happy. The things that got him down were things like seeing an old person alone on the side of the street, or a lost little kid crying and desperate for its parents.

He'd taken especially careful notice of Tweek, ever since his fellow blonde had burned his hands with that scalding coffee. The distress in Tweek's eyes after the accident had pained him more than the burns and blisters.

So, afternoon found him striding through the unlocked door of the Tweak residence, past the disturbingly unconcerned Mr. and Mrs. Tweak, and into their son's bedroom.

Tweek sat on the floor, his back against the bed and arms wound around his knees in the darkness of the room. Careful not to startle him, Kenny sat close and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Tweek wasn't trembling, and that scared him.

"Hey...Tweek? It's your old pal Ken. C'mere, look up at me," he lifted Tweek's chin and studied the boy's face, his sad hazel eyes and fragile-looking skin, "we've been wondering about you. What's up?"

"I...just...nngh..." his voice came out so high-pitched that it cracked, his words slurred together slightly.

"Did Craig do something to you?"

Tweek's face registered dull surprise for a moment before sinking back into misery.

"Don't look at me like that, I could tell all along you had the hots for Craig. So what happened between you two?"

Tweek gave a brittle sigh and, with his alto, drug-addled words, told Kenny everything. Kenny kept his arm wrapped around Tweek's shoulders, offering a comforting squeeze every now and again.

"Craig is an asshole, Tweek," he said finally, though he knew it wouldn't offer Tweek any solace. The thin boy just gave a sad nod, "he's always been an emotionless bastard. If it's any consolation, I would  _ _totally__  be your boyfriend."

The comment had its intended effect of jarring Tweek out of his stupor. His eyes widened and Kenny traced the curve of Tweek's jaw with his finger.

"...y...you would?"

"I would..." Kenny whispered. He slipped into Tweek's lap and, placing his hands on Tweek's cold cheeks, dragged him into a deep kiss.

Tweek groaned against him, too tired and too drugged to fight. Besides, it felt kind of nice. Kenny might have been a gigantic whore, but he was a sexy one, and everyone agreed on it. To have someone as desirable as Kenny making out with him...well, he supposed it was a compliment of sorts. But still, he couldn't help but imagine it was Craig straddling him and kissing him so passionately.

They broke the kiss after long moments. Kenny nibbled lovingly at Tweek's bottom lip before standing, giving Tweek that mischievous grin.

"Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You promise to be okay and I'll send you a present, as soon as I can."

"A...present...? ...what?" Tweek asked, dazed. But by the time he could focus enough for his swimming vision to clear, Kenny had gone.

Tweek lay his head against his knees again.

Damn hallucinations.

* * *

A chill breeze blew in from Craig's open window, but he paid it no heed. As far as he was concerned, he deserved to freeze to death. Besides, he'd rather have the window open and be cold than have it closed and be locked in the stuffy room. Stars blinked in the freezing night sky, watching him accusingly.

Swirls had retreated into her plastic igloo hours ago, and had refused to come out. He wasn't even able to coerce her with lettuce or yogurt chips. It was as if she knew what he'd done to her good pal Tweek. He glanced miserably at her silent cage, then back to his sketchbook.

He'd been trying to design a costume like the kind he'd seen on Red Racer for so many years, yet somehow he'd only gotten as far as drawing the form of the model; tall and bony and not graceful at all, with odd-angled hands and wild hair...

Suddenly, a thud. A thud and a creak.

Eyes snapping open, he cocked his head to the side to listen.

Even, tempered pounding, like footsteps, sounded right above his head. He glanced up at the ceiling in confusion. There were a few more taps before the noise vanished, and all was silent again.

He almost let himself relax when the wind came howling in, bringing with it a dark figure that tumbled forward into his room.

"What the fuck!" he jumped back, sketchbook and pencil dropping to the floor.

The cloaked figure crouched in the middle of Craig's room, regaining composure before looking up. Two blazing blue eyes peered out from behind a black mask.

"Craig," Mysterion rasped, "We need to talk."

"Jesus Christ..." Craig moaned and collapsed back down on his bed, "Kenny? What the fuck. You're still running around in that costume?"

"Not Kenny. Mysterion. Now listen to me, motherfucker."

"Get the hell out of my house, Kenny."

"I  _ _will__ , once my business is done," Mysterion snarled, almost taking Craig aback. His voice had taken on a vicious edge that Craig had never heard before. He'd known for years who Mysterion really was, the whole town did, but he'd never met with Kenny's alter-ego personally.

"Now," Mysterion continued, standing to his full height and gazing intensely at Craig, "tell me why you dissed Tweek like that. I  _ _know__  you have feelings for him."

"Oh yeah?" Craig snorted, "and how do you know that?"

"I'm experienced in the ways of love."

"Because you work full-time as a prostitute?"

"Part-time," Mysterion replied a little too matter-of-factly, "the kid's crushed. He needs you."

"Well, maybe that's the problem," Craig snapped back, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest, "I can't be there for someone all the fucking time."

"No. But you could do the best you could. I've been watching you two. You fit together well, you both have feelings for each other, and you're both ass-pounders. I don't see what the issue is."

"Goddammit, Kenny, I told you to stop stalking us."

" _ _Tell__ me what your problem is, butt-licker!" Mysterion growled, teeth gritted in anger.

"None of your fucking business!" Craig seethed, holding both middle fingers firmly in Mysterion's face, "now leave me the fuck alone!"

He expected the cloaked boy to punch him, almost wanted him to, but no such attack came. Instead, Mysterion calmly grabbed the hem of his cloak, collecting it close to his body, and turned to walk back toward the window.

"Very well, Craig. I'll leave you alone. But since you have no interest in Tweek, I suppose he's free, then?"

"...what."

Mysterion looked over his shoulder, lips spread in a cocky smile.

"I went to his house a couple of hours ago. And kissed him," he ran his tongue over his lips, "he was delicious."

Craig's hands clenched into fists and he stood, fuming silently, too shocked to say anything. Mysterion cocked his head to the side, the question mark on his bowl bobbing with the movement.

"I'm just saying, if you don't want him, I'll be happy to take him off your hands. In fact, I think I'll go right now and do just that...I believe he's supposed to be closing up the coffee shop tonight..."

"Goddammit, Kenny, if you-"

But it was too late. Mysterion had already disappeared out the window with a swish of his cloak, melting into the darkness of the night.

"Shit," Craig muttered to himself, snatching up his coat and hurriedly throwing it on. He slammed the window shut and ran downstairs, almost running over Ruby, who threw her middle finger up in protest as he slammed the door behind him.

"Shit, shit, shit!" his breath puffed white and warm in the cold air as he ran. He couldn't let Kenny get to Tweek first. He'd dismissed Tweek, convinced himself he didn't want Tweek as a boyfriend, but the thought of anyone else having him was too much for him to bear. Especially Kenny, whose sexual exploits were the stuff of legend. Tweek deserved better than that. Besides, who knew what kind of STDs Kenny had?

 _ _'His STDs probably have STDs,'__ Craig thought bitterly, rounding the corner onto Main Street. Kenny was a fast motherfucker, but Craig possessed the longer legs and attention span. He kept imagining Mysterion bounding along the rooftops behind him.

In the back of his mind, however, he knew Kenny wasn't following him. That Kenny never intended on seducing Tweek.

But Kenny had given him an excuse to go after Tweek, an excuse he hadn't known he'd wanted until now.

Harbucks sat as lonely as ever, practically abandoned due to the time of night. Craig noticed that Tweek's car wasn't in the parking lot, and panicked slightly. Willing himself to calm down, he slowed his pace and walked into the store, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

Bebe glared at him from behind the counter, and she had good reason to, he supposed. She'd had to pick up his shifts since he'd quit so abruptly.

"How can I help you?" she asked sarcastically. He rolled his eyes in response and tried to catch his breath before speaking.

"Tweek...is he here?"

"In the back," came her grumbled response. She arched an eyebrow, her pretty painted lips turned downward in a frown, "what the hell did you do to him? He's been acting pathetic lately. More than usual, I mean."

"None of your business. Listen, just go home. I'll help Tweek lock up tonight, I need to talk to him."

Bebe untied her apron and hung it on a hook by the break room door, grabbing her purse as she went. She passed him and gave him a nasty look.

"Asshole," he heard her scoff, and the ringing of the bell on the door signaled her departure. Taking a deep breath, Craig stepped behind the counter and through the heavy green door.

Tweek stood in the break room, standing in front of the vending machine. He seemed to be studying its contents intently; so intently that he hadn't even noticed Craig come in. Either that, or he thought it was Bebe come to check on him.

"Tweek," he said softly, and the boy jumped in alarm and turned. Several emotions seemed to flitter across his face at once; surprise, anxiety, anger, resignation. It took a moment or two before he decided to settle on anger.

"Nngh...god!  _ _What?__ "

"Relax. I wanted to talk to you."

"Gah! Jesus! The window of opportunity for that has _closed_ , Craig," his eyes narrowed, but instead of looking threatening, he looked more tired than ever. Still, the fact that he had a little fight in him made him pretty damn sexy in Craig's eyes.

"But you'll give me another chance," Craig answered confidently.

"Ah! I...I will?"

"You will. Because you're a good person."

Tweek's confusion quickly turned to suspicion.

"Not good enough for  _ _you,__  apparently."

"You've got it backwards," Craig stepped forward, grabbing Tweek's wrists as the boy flinched and made to step away, "you're the one who's too good for me. It's...it's not as if I just wanted you as a lay or whatever and not a boyfriend. Because...god, this is embarrassing...I would like us to be...um...together. But...a boyfriend should be someone who can take care of you and always be there for you, and I...don't know if I'm a good enough guy to do that for you."

He kept his hold on Tweek's brittle wrists, and slowly the blonde turned his large eyes to Craig.

"Wait....so...you...Jesus... _ _want__ to be with me? Like...uh...date me and everything?"

"Yeah. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I just...don't know if I'll be good at it. I don't want to...hurt you."

Tweek thought for a long moment, worrying at his abused bottom lip before speaking.

"...I'm willing to take that risk if you are."

They hesitantly moved closer together, Craig's hands sliding up the sleeves of Tweek's shirt, Tweek's fingers brushing the still-cold skin of Craig's cheeks. Their lips met and pressed into a kiss, arms wound and locked around one another. Tweek tasted more strongly of cough syrup than ever, which was something Craig would have to talk to him about, but at a later time.

For now they just enjoyed each other, the touches and caresses and the warmth, enclosed in their bright little box from the rest of the world.


	8. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, dudes! There is however a sequel in the works, in which Craig, Tweek and Kenny attempt (poorly!) to bring Kyle and Stan together. Until then, I hope you've enjoyed this story I wrote a bazillion years ago!

"What're we doing here, again? I can't really say I'm enjoying this," Kyle whispered crabbily. Beside him, Stan elbowed Cartman in the side, hissing out his own angry whisper.

"Dammit Cartman, you take up practically the whole closet. And Kyle's right, this is...really goddamn weird, to say the least."

"You gahs," Cartman replied without even glancing up from his video camera, "there's tons of money in homemade gay porn. Kinney told me himself. Right, Kinney?"

In the slit of light filtering through the crack of the closet door, Kenny grinned and nodded.

"But Craig and Tweek don't even know they're being filmed," Kyle argued, trying to convey his anger and keep his voice hush simultaneously, which was proving difficult for him, "this is breaking like twenty different laws."

"Who cares?" Kenny crouched below Cartman and peered hungrily out the door, "it's hot as _ _fuck__."

"Goddamnit, Kinney, don't start jerking off down there," Cartman warned, casting a wary eye at the blonde, "it's already gay as hell in this closet."

"Cartman-" Stan groaned, but was cut off by a harsh noise from the larger boy.

"Shut it, they're getting to the good part! No one wants to hear your faggy voice over the sound of awesome money-making sex!"

He kept filming through the crack in Tweek's closet door, his camera aimed expertly across the room at the bed. Tweek himself lay in the bed on his back, naked but for an unbuttoned shirt. Craig stood over him, gripping Tweek's thighs and thrusting with a combination of care and passion into his blonde lover. Beside them, Tweek's iPod dock flashed its blue light in time with the song that played, not doing much to conceal the sounds of their coupling.

"Aaah...aagh, y-yes...Craig... _ _ah__...Jesus..." Tweek moaned and grunted, blissfully unaware of the four voyeurs hiding in his closet. He gripped his untidy bedsheets with white-knuckled fists, writhing under Craig.

"God, Tweek..." Craig groaned as pleasure raced through his body with each movement of his hips. He reached out to stroke Tweek, who yelped and whimpered at the welcome touch.

In the closet, Kyle pressed the sides of his ushanka to his ears and screwed up his eyes, head shaking slowly.

"Can't believe I'm here..." he grumbled, "Abraham, please get me out..."

"I bet they're glad I got them together now," Kenny mumbled with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Is that why you were stalking them?" Stan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't like to call it stalking, I like to call it-"

"Oh my god, you gahs! Shut the hell up!"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an inaudible groan. From beyond the closet, Tweek gave a loud moan and Craig a long sigh of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed ceased.

"God, I don't wanna be here right now."

"Shut up, Stan, gay people love to watch other gay people have sex."

"How the hell do you know?" Stan narrowed his eyes angrily at Cartman. The edges of Kyle's lips twitched in a smirk and a bright blush came to Cartman's cheeks.

"Well...you know...uh...shut the hell up, that's how. Jesus Christ, you fags sure know how to ruin a smut film, don't you?"

Over on the bed, Craig laid beside Tweek, an arm wrapped around the blonde's torso. Tweek cuddled against him, exhaling a satisfied sigh against his shoulder.

"Good?" Craig asked with a light kiss on Tweek's lips.

"Great," Tweek grinned that all-consuming grin that lit up his face and his tired eyes. He lovingly buried his face into the crook of Craig's neck.

"I think I'm turning you into a sex addict," he quipped with another kiss to Tweek's temple.

"Probably," Tweek sighed, but he didn't sound too unhappy about it, "you're staying here tonight, right?" he cast a heartwarming smile at the boy sharing his bed. Craig brushed the wild blonde locks from Tweek's forehead and smiled back.

"Duh, retard," he answered, but there was no trace of malice in his voice. Tweek gave an appreciative nuzzle against Craig's bared shoulder before a fit of shivers overtook him. Craig watched as Tweek cast a cautious look around his room.

"Gah! S-sorry! It just...does it feel like someone's -AGH!- watching us?"

"No, Tweek. No one is watching us."

"It couldn't be Higgins," Tweek continued heedlessly, "I covered him up."

"Who the fuck is Higgins?"

Tweek nodded his head toward his dresser, where his bamboo plant sat, covered hastily and haphazardly with a stray t-shirt.

"...you named your plant?  _ _Higgins__?"

The blonde worried at his bottom lip and nodded at Craig, trembling hands clutching the covers to hide the nakedness of his lower half. Craig watched him, his lips spreading into a slow grin.

"God, you are so fucking crazy," he murmured and leaned forward to nip at Tweek's ear, "and it's goddamn sexy as hell."

Tweek groaned in pleasure and, in his closet, Stan and Kyle exchanged a look as Cartman checked his video camera's memory to make sure there was enough for a second round.

* * *

"Boys, this is an after-school art club, not a motel room, mmkay. Please try to keep your homosexual displays of affection at a minimum," Mr. Mackey chided as he passed Craig and Tweek. Craig flipped his finger up in protest, his other hand busy stroking Tweek's thigh under the table as the blonde shuddered, half-lidded eyes trained on his boyfriend.

"Mr. Mackey," Cartman stood, his hands flat on the table before him, "I'm afraid I simply can't stay here any longer. This place is full of fags and Jews. I don't want to catch anything from them."

"Blow it out your ass, Cartman!" Kyle hissed over his watercolors. He, Butters and Tweek had been the only ones actually interested in the art club.

Craig personally had only joined because Tweek insisted it'd look good on an application to Loft Bridge University. Stan had joined so he had another excuse to ogle Kyle, and Cartman was there as a punishment from Mr. Garrison for "accidentally" sending Jimmy to the hospital earlier that week.

"Mr. Mackey, can you do something about this Jew? He's so angry all the time. I think he needs therapy."

"Eric," Mr. Mackey closed his eyes wearily and put a hand to his forehead, "for the love of God, please just sit down and finish your painting, mmkay?"

"Fine," Cartman spat, plunking heavily back down into his seat. He muttered something about creampuffs as Stan stared lovingly across the table at Kyle, who was focused intently on his painting.

Craig had finished his ministrations and peered over to look at Tweek's canvas paper, his eyebrows knitted together in slight frustration.

"I can't think of what to paint," he grumbled, craning his neck to get a good look at Tweek's canvas, "What're you painting?"

"Gah! Um...coffee!"

"You always paint coffee."

"I like coffee! Oh Jesus! Last time I painted coffee, my parents wanted to hang it up in the shop. Gah! But that's  _ _way__ too much pressure! So I threw the painting in a bonfire and told them it'd been stolen by Sarah Palin!" he nibbled on the edge of his paintbrush, either not remembering or not caring that it had just been dipped in red pigment. The color washed across his lips like a smear of lipstick, and suddenly Craig wondered what Tweek would look like in a skirt.

"Are you working tonight?" he asked, dabbing carelessly at his paper with splotches of watery blue.

"Wah! Y-yeah, six 'till closing. I really wish you'd -nngh- come back and work there, my dad said he'd rehire you!"

"I can't, I'd be so busy fucking you that we wouldn't get any work done."

He grinned as Tweek's paintbrush clattered to the floor.

An hour later art club was over, and Stan, Cartman and Craig all had half-blank canvases for one reason or another.

"I painted a lil butterfly!" Butters proclaimed proudly as they walked toward the parking lot, holding up what was possibly the gayest-looking butterfly in the world, "hey there, lil butterfly!"

"Jesus Christ, Butters," Stan groaned.

"At least he didn't paint an ass, Stan," Cartman said pointedly, eyes flickering over to Kyle.

"It's not an ass, it's a peach!" Kyle snapped, hazarding an uncertain glance down at his painting.

"You can paint ass-peaches all you want, Kahl, but that's not going to stop you from being a dirty Jew rat."

"I'm going to kill you, Cartman!" Kyle yelled and lunged toward the larger boy.

"Gah! Oh Jesus, dude, Jesus!" Tweek screeched. Craig hooked him by the arm and dragged him away.

"Come on, Tweek. We've gotta leave before their fighting triggers an earthquake or we somehow end up in Hong Kong or something."

Tweek nodded and allowed himself to be led away. He knew from firsthand experience how things usually went with that group.

A certain after-school routine had been forming for Craig and Tweek. They both had art club, (unless Craig had detention, which wasn't unusual; in that case, he'd be forced to sit in the library while Tweek went off to make art), then Craig would drive Tweek's car to his house, where they would watch TV or do homework or make out until Tweek had to go to work.

Tweek in particular seemed to take hold of this routine very quickly, delighting in having a sense of security in his world of fast-moving, hectic blurs.

"I meant what I said, though," Craig said over the sounds of the stereo as he pulled out of the parking lot, with Tweek fidgeting in the passenger seat beside him, "I can't go back to work at Harbucks. I'd end up plowing you on the counter in front of the customers."

Tweek gave a surprised little gasp and Craig smiled. He said those kinds of things to Tweek practically every day, but each new statement made Tweek seize up and blush like a maiden.

"Gah...I don't think...my dad would like that..." he murmured and hooked his thin fingers together, anxiety written across his features.

"Your parents do know we're dating, right, Tweek? You came out to them, right?" Craig asked sternly, dark eyes flicking over to the blonde beside him.

"Gah! Mm...pressure..."

"You haven't told them?"

"Ack! N-no, I did! They didn't seem -nngh- t-that concerned..." he tugged at a lock of his hair, screwing up his eyes and remembering, "and my dad told me a story about some gay penguins in a -gah!- zoo or something..."

"That sounds about right."

"Nngh. He asked if we were going to adopt an egg."

"Could you take care of an egg, Tweek?"

"Jesus man, no way! That's way too much pressure! Eggs are fragile! Oh god! I know they say you can balance a tractor on them, but that's just a rumor spread by the poultry farmers of America! They want to keep us away from their farms so they can continue harvesting chicken souls for Bigfoot! GAH!"

Craig had grown used to Tweek's paranoid rants, but he couldn't help but listen in growing disbelief to the blonde's tale of Bigfeets living in the mountains and feeding on departed chicken souls harvested by oppressed poultry farmers. By the time they got to his house, he'd lost track of the story altogether.

"Ack! A-and then they use the leftover eggs to make that oatmeal with the dinosaur shapes in it! That's why I can't protest against them, man! I love that oatmeal..." Tweek yelped and trembled as they made their way into Craig's house.

"Goddamn, Tweek," Craig sighed and scratched the back of his head through his chullo, "that was...interesting. Sit down, I'm going to feed you. You have to eat before you go to work."

"GAH!" Tweek sat, his honey-colored eyes darting to and fro, "I-I don't need anything to eat! Please don't do anything special for me, oh sweet Jesus!"

Craig placed his palms flat on the kitchen table and leaned forward, staring into Tweek's twitching eyes.

"And why wouldn't I do anything special for you?" he asked blankly. Tweek froze for a moment before his body slid back into its usual patterns of uneasiness.

"I...gah...nngh...I mean...it's already enough that you're putting up with me!"

Craig stood, gazing down at him. What must it have been like to be Tweek? Craig had never had an issue with his self-esteem. Luckily, he was good-looking and popular, but even if he hadn't been, he imagined it wouldn't have fazed him much. He was simply not the type to care.

But was Tweek so damaged that he considered himself such an imposition on society? A while ago, Craig might have agreed with him. But now it just made him sad. Sad and worried.

He huffed a little and turned to open the cabinets. More damn emotions.

"You're eating some goddamn mac and cheese, Tweek."

"Gah!"

Tweek took so long to eat that it was five forty-five by the time he was done. He set the bowl in the sink and giggled as Swirls ran happily around his feet.

"I'm coming to see you when you get off work," Craig remarked tonelessly, scooping up his guinea pig and gently placing her in the pocket of his hoodie. She poked her fat little face out and sniffed the air. Tweek nodded as he shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. Craig opened it for him and they both leaned in for a chaste kiss. When they pulled away, Tweek's face was burning red and he was grinning like an idiot. Craig smirked. Even the most innocent of touches could have that effect on Tweek, and he loved it.

He waved goodbye as Tweek pulled away, still amazed that Tweek could work up the concentration and courage to drive a two-ton car. Craig looked down at Swirls, at her wide, twitching nose and sparkling button eyes, and thought about what his boyfriend had said.

* * *

"I'm serious, Tweek," Bebe chattered happily, a bobby pin sticking out of her mouth, "you'll look so cute with your hair up like this!"

She stood behind the boy, who sat trembling in a Harbucks chair. How Bebe had convinced him to let her mess with his hair, he wasn't sure, but here they were. While Tweek was happy when it got closer to closing and all the customers left, Bebe tended to get antsy and restless. He just hoped she didn't start gossiping about anyone again. There were certain things he didn't want to know about his peers. Knowing was WAY too much pressure sometimes.

"Did you hear that Eric Cartman asked Wendy Testaburger out on a  _ _date__? Can you believe that?"

"Gah!"

"I know! I asked Kenny what the deal was, and he said Eric is just trying to prove he's a lady's man. It's like, yeah right! Call me when you lose a hundred pounds, asshole!"

The bell above the door twinkled its ridiculous melody, and Craig stepped through the door, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. Bebe and Tweek paused to look up at him. Craig, in turn, stared at his boyfriend, whose hair was collected in a stubby ponytail and pinned back from his eyes. Overall, he looked...

"Gay. Really gay," Craig said blankly, setting his bag down on a table, "Bebe, go home. I'll help Tweek close up, me and him wanna be alone."

"God, Craig, you are such a prick," Bebe curled her lips down in distaste, but otherwise seemed to present no argument. She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, digging through it for her car keys, "if you boys go at it on those tables, don't forget to wipe them down afterwards."

"AH! OH JESUS!"

Bebe grinned over her shoulder and stepped out the door, jogging through the cold to get to her car. Craig watched her for a moment, then turned to look at Tweek.

"Uh..s-she cornered me, man! I had to let her do my hair! Oh god! She didn't dye it yellow or anything, did she?"

"Tweek, your hair is already yellow," Craig sighed, pulling up a chair across from him. Tweek's brows furrowed for a moment and then he looked down.

"Oh. I forgot."

Tweek's unwavering vision of the mocha-colored tiles was suddenly interrupted by a large cylinder being shoved in front of his face. Startled, he jumped back and looked at Craig.

The black-haired boy continued holding it out toward him.

"It's for you, stupid," he grunted, and pushed the thing into Tweek's hands.

It was a coffee thermos. Its body was stainless steel, with insulating rubber grips around the bottom and top. The shiny metal was decorated with long, vibrantly green prints of what Tweek recognized to be shoots of bamboo. He stared back up at Craig, the thermos held tightly between his shaking hands.

"I don't  _ _'put up'__ with anyone or anything, Tweek," Craig said softly, "I've been doing stuff with you because I like you. I like you a lot. That's why we're boyfriends now. Because you're...you're a lot more amazing than you give yourself credit for. Than any of us gave you credit for."

He watched Tweek, watched as the blonde ran his fingers over the thermos like it was a wedding ring.

And in a sudden move befitting Tweek's speed, his lips were pressed against Craig's, his long arms wrapped around Craig's neck. It was a passionate kiss, with open mouths and warring tongues, but there was a strong sense of sincerity that neither of them had ever experienced before. Craig's hands were planted on Tweek's back, holding him in a tight, reassuring embrace.

They parted slowly. Tweek smiled and placed his forehead against Craig's, his eyes vibrant and sparkling and happy. Craig pressed his nose against Tweek's, curled his palm possessively around the back of Tweek's neck, and allowed himself a rare grin against his lover's cheek.

They clung together, two troubled teenagers from a troubled town, secure and happy in their brightly-lit box of glass.


End file.
